


A Pirate's Life For Me

by chocoholic2



Series: A Pirate's Life For Me [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, Sailing, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6233284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocoholic2/pseuds/chocoholic2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric Bittle—former baker's apprentice and son of a Navy captain—finds himself starting a new life as a pirate aboard the <i>Samwell</i>. As he figures out his place on the crew and learns how to become a proper pirate, he must also navigate a tumultuous relationship with his captain, who is figuring out a few things of his own.</p><p>Alternatively: The one where Bitty puts the pie in pirate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm playing fast and loose with historical facts, so be forewarned. For example, most of the characters talk like they do in the comic, with some pirate vocabulary sprinkled in for good measure.
> 
> A lifetime of thanks to Ngozi for her wonderful work. I'm assuming if you're here you've read Check Please, but if not, do yourself a favor and make your life a million times better [here](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/).
> 
> This is a definite WIP, meaning that I will be posting chapters as I write them with no update timeline guarantees. My goal is to complete the story by the next comic update, but... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> EDIT: Many thanks to [BakedHam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BakedHam/pseuds/BakedHam) and [BaegentWashington](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanTheFreewoodGuy/pseuds/BaegentWashington) for being amazing betas. 
> 
> For those of you who weren't insanely obsessed with pirates growing up, you can look up any of the piratey words in this [pirate glossary](http://pirateglossary.com/), but you should be able to follow the story without it. Also, [this diagram](https://www.q-files.com/images/pages/galleries/1119/p18ed8abi317l81h4h17mu1guf1m0ms.jpg?385) is a pretty good idea about the size and design of the _Samwell_.

The pirates attack them in the dead of night. Most of the ship’s passengers are merchant sailors, so they never really even have a chance. Eric Richard Bittle awakens to the sounds of screams and gunfire and thinks, _This could be the end._

The skirmish is over almost as soon as it begins. The pirates round up the ship’s passengers and corral them onto the deck. Eric and the others huddle together in the dark, forming a feeble protection against the piercing wind and pointed blades.

They watch defenselessly while the intruders load all of the gold, goods and guns onto their ship.

“Alright motherfuckers, anyone who tries anything is getting a cutlass in the gut, so for the love of Christ keep your mouths shut,” declares the pirate dedicated to guarding them. His bushy mustache is visible even in the dark. Eric watches numbly as he paces in front of their group, shouting over the crash of the waves. “I’d like to thank all of you for your cooperation and generosity. As you may have noticed, the screamers, fighters and fucking cockstains among you have been sent to Davy Jones’ locker, but the rest of you have a choice. We can kill you,” he proposes, “and you can join your fallen brethren at the bottom of the sea. Not my first choice, but hey, it’s your life.”

As he talks, he stares down the terrified group.  “You can remain on this ship and hope that you’re rescued before your rations give out. A gamble, but again, it’s your life. Or…”

He looks at them with a shrewd smirk. “You can join our ranks, take to the sea on the _Samwell_ , and become a fucking buccaneer.”

The group of passengers stands in silence, not moving, some not even breathing.

“No one…?” the pirate taunts.

Eric pushes his way to the front group before he even realizes his feet have moved. “I—” he stammers, clearing his throat, praying that his voice won’t tremble the way his knees are. “I’d like to join.”

The pirate stops in his tracks, and Eric feels the prickling sensation of dozens of shocked eyes on him. He squares his feet and repeats himself a little louder. “I’d like to join your crew.”

The mustached pirate looks him over, head cocked, eyes blazing. Eric tries not to faint as he waves over two more large pirates, the three of them circling him like sharks about to feed.

“Does your mother know you want to be a pirate, kid?” one of them asks.

“I’m nineteen,” Eric responds defiantly. “I can make my own decisions.”

“I’m sure. And if those decisions involve killing a man, what then? Can you handle it?”

Eric’s heart races, his body only remaining upright through sheer adrenaline, but he manages to respond with a clear voice. “I’m already a criminal, so why not add one more crime.”

The three men stop pacing, eying him for long enough that Eric has time to imagine at least four ways they could kill him without breaking a sweat.

Finally, the mustached one slaps him on the back. “Alright then, I guess you’re coming with us. As for the rest of you fuckers, good luck out there. Don’t drink the sea water if you can help it. Ransom, Holster, gather the boys, and get everyone off this fucking piece of garbage. Let’s go!”

Before he has a chance to blink, the pirates are shoving him to the edge of the deck and handing him a thick rope. He climbs onto the railing and jumps, trying not to cry out as he swings over the icy blackness of the crashing waves and onto the pirates’ ship.

The ship itself is not large. From what he can tell, the crew is about twenty men, most of whom are currently occupied with rolling barrels down into the hold.

“If you want to stay, make yourself useful and start hauling the loot down below,” shouts the mustached pirate.

An hour ago, Eric had been asleep aboard a merchant ship headed for England and a trial that would certainly end with a hanging. Now he is rolling a barrel of rum into the hold of a pirate ship. He’s still not entirely certain he made the right choice.

The crew moves quickly and efficiently, and Eric is impressed by how well they work together. He had never really given it much thought, but if he’d had to guess, he would have assumed that pirates were callous and mercenary, a disagreeable lot only out for themselves and for treasure, but these men work like a unit. Like a team.

It’s only once all of the boxes and barrels have been stored below deck and Eric is left standing alone on the middle of the deck, watching all the other men drift off to bed, that it really sinks in. He doesn’t know where he’s supposed to go, doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be doing. His doubts begin bubbling up into a panic, and the thought creeps into his head that maybe he would be better off asking one of the pirates just to kill him and save himself the trouble.

His thoughts are interrupted by a sharp, terrifying shout. “What are you doing here?”

Eric looks up and tries not to shake as the tall, dark-haired pirate glares down at him.

“Um… I’m new,” he manages to stammer back. “I was on the other ship… I volunteered.”

The pirate’s glare gets even sharper, angrier, and it’s all Eric can do to keep upright.

“If you’re going to be on this crew, you have to pull your weight, not stand around doing nothing.”

“But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!”

“Well I don’t have time to tell you, so for now, stay out of the way,” he snarls, but it feels like a slap. He turns to leave and Eric can feel tears welling up in his eyes. He can’t cry, not now. His eyes are closed, fists clenched, but he hears the pirate continue, his back still to Eric. “Find Lardo at the end of morning watch for your assignment. Sailors’ quarters are on the middle deck, and newest hand takes the hammock by the door. Don’t fuck up and you can stay,” he growls, walking away briskly.

Eric has never felt so small. As soon as the pirate is out of sight, Eric scurries towards what he thinks are the sailors’ quarters, the adrenaline of the past few hours leaking out of him. He does find the room full of cots and hammocks and sinks into the one nearest the door. Despite everything – his panic, his dread, his aching muscles and anxious heart – it only takes seconds before he’s in a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

There’s a moment when Eric first wakes up that he doesn’t remember where he is and what has happened. All he notices is the same gentle rocking that he’s become accustomed to these many weeks on an ocean voyage. The events from the previous night all comes rushing back to him, and he’s overcome by a strange feeling in his stomach. There’s mostly fear and panic, but also, shockingly intertwined, a tiny ribbon of hope. For the first time in months, he is waking up with the possibility of freedom – at least if he can survive his first day.

He has no idea about the time, no idea when he’s supposed to meet _Lardo_ , whoever that may be, and no reason to wait for that terrifying pirate from the night before to find him lying in bed, so he scurries up on deck to look around. The sun is up, but it’s still early in the morning. He must not have slept long.

“Think fast!” someone shouts, and before he knows it, he’s catching a squarish biscuit flying at his face. “Nice reflexes, kid.”

“Thank you.” Eric eyes the biscuit suspiciously just as his stomach growls.

“You can eat it. It’s just hardtack,” says the pirate, the same mustached one from the night before. “And I’m Shitty.” As far as names go, Eric has heard worse, but never self-imposed.

“I’m Eric,” he replies. “Eric Bittle,” he adds before shoving half of the biscuit in his mouth.

“Bittle, huh? That’s fitting for an itty, bitty bro like yourself. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys soon, but first you better go talk to Lardo.” Shitty leans in, propping his leg up on a box and resting his elbow on it. “Now don’t be intimidated. I’ve seen even the bravest men cower and run away sobbing from Lards, but you can handle it. Well, you might not, but you’ll have to if you want to get your assignment and ship’s share sorted.”

“Great,” says Eric nervously.

“You’ll be fine. We run a fair ship. Our captain wouldn’t have it any other way, and as quartermaster, it’s up to Lardo to make sure it all happens the way it should. Now get going, ya little fucker.”

“Okay… thanks, um, Shitty.”

He heads in the direction towards the quartermaster’s cabin, and knocks lightly on the door.

To his surprise, it’s not an intimidating tall and muscular pirate opening the door, but a petite sailor. In fact, Eric realizes right away, despite the short hair and men’s clothing, he’s face to face with a woman.

“Oh! Um, I’m looking for Lardo.”

The woman looks him up and down, then smirks. “I’m Lardo. Quartermaster. Kinda keep the boys running. You must be the new deckhand. Shitty totally told me all about you.” She reaches out her hand and Eric shakes it enthusiastically. While he has no doubt that this woman or any woman living on a pirate ship would be capable of rendering fear into the hearts of men, Eric is at least relieved that she seems in no hurry to beat him.

“Well goodness gracious, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, before adding, “But for some reason I thought you’d be—”

“A six-foot tall white dude?” she interrupts. “Chyeah. It’s probably because of all the dumb stories the boys tell.”

She ushers Eric into the room, which is a Spartan combination of private quarters and ship’s office.

As he looks around, Eric wonders out loud, “I thought most pirates were suspicious about having a woman aboard.”

“Yeah, most are,” Lardo admits. “I was thrown off three ships before I found this one. You don’t have a problem with it, do you?”

“Oh no! Not in the slightest.”

“Good,” she says. “Luckily the captain doesn’t believe in that particular superstition either. But enough about me. Let’s get you sorted.”

Lardo talks him through the ship’s shares, explaining all about the different watches and positions. Eric is actually very impressed with how well-run the crew is and says as much as she finishes up. “The captain must be pretty good if this is how well things are organized.”

“I’d say so,” replies Lardo, just as the door swings open. “And speak of the devil…”

In marches the tall, intimidating pirate who yelled at him the previous night. Even as he flinches in memory of the encounter, Eric can’t help but notice how handsome the captain is. He’s pale for a pirate, which only makes his dark hair and bright blue eyes that much more striking. He’s well-built, strong, and glaring at Eric in the most terrifying way possible.

After a moment, he tears his eyes away and turns to Lardo. “Do you have some time to discuss a few things?”

“Yes Captain, as soon as I finish up with our newest addition, Eric Bittle. Bittle, this is our captain, Jack Zimmermann.”

The captain glares back at Eric, his jaw twitching angrily.

“Do you even know the first thing about sailing?” he barks at him.

“My father was in the Royal Navy,” Eric responds defensively. “I’ve known how to sail for almost as long as I’ve known how to walk.”

“Can you wield a sword?”

“Well, no but—”

“Can you fire a gun?”

“No, but I—”

“Can you run rigging or operate a cannon?”

“I promise I’m eager to learn and—”

“You’re too small and too weak to be of any use. You have no battle skills. No experience. Why are you even here?”

Eric finally just snaps, lashing out with all of the fear and anger that has been brewing inside him for weeks, since long before he turned his fate over to this ship and the pirate’s life.

“I didn’t have much of a choice, did I? If you don’t want me, then why don’t you just kill me?”

Both the captain and Lardo gape at him as he continues. “I’m a hard-worker, a good sailor, and there’s nothing left for me on land except the gallows, so I chose freedom, which I’m sure you can relate to. But if that’s not good enough for you, then go ahead and throw me overboard.”

Jack steps forward and looms intimidatingly over him. “I hand-picked every single member of this crew. I will not let them be bogged down by some freeloader, so I expect you to get with the program or you can go ahead and throw yourself overboard. Do _not_ make me regret allowing you on this ship.”

“Yes, _Captain_.”

“Good.” The captain turns abruptly and leaves the cabin. “Come find me when you’re done, Lardo.”

“Aye, aye,” she replies. As soon as he’s out of sight she gives Eric an apologetic look. “He’s not always like that.”

Eric laughs bitterly. “I hope so, or else I’m not sure I’ll make it.”

“Just give it some time. Get to know the crew, find your place and don’t worry about the captain. He’ll come around.”

“I’ll try… And thanks,” he tells her, leaving the cabin and heading back to the deck.

He eventually finds Shitty inspecting the sails and laughing with the same two pirates who rounded him up the night before. “Ahh, Bitty, you survived your meeting with Lardo! Well done.”

Despite everything, the nickname gives him a warm feeling in his stomach. “Sure did,” he replies.

Shitty slaps the other two pirates on the back and continues. “These sorry sons of bitches are Ransom and Holster, our Sailing Master and Master Gunner respectively.”

“Welcome aboard, bro!” one of them – Ransom he thinks – says.

“Is Bitty a name or a description?” says the other, Holster.

“Um, both?” Eric admits. “My surname is Bittle.”

“It’s good to have you dude. What does Lardo have you doing?”

Eric shrugs slightly, “Just swabbing the deck for now. I think I’m a glorified cabin boy until I can prove myself and work my way up. At least, unless Captain Jack has me thrown overboard… He totally chewed me out back there.”

All three of the men nod knowingly. “Ahh, don’t take it personally,” Ransom assures. “He always gets really bitchy the closer we get to land.”

“He’ll return to regularly scheduled levels of bitchy after shore leave,” adds Holster.

Shitty shakes his head. “Hey, when a mate’s dad is Bad Bob, a mate’s gonna turn into a fucking pirate nightmare every once in a while.”

“Who’s Bad Bob?” Eric asks. He can almost hear the whipping sound of all of their heads turning toward him. “Wait. What did I… Y’all quit staring at me like that! This is exactly what happened before some Navy sailors locked me in the brig when I was 13.”

Shitty takes pity on him first. “Bad Bob Zimmermann was the most fearsome pirate to sail the seven seas. He found, stole and looted more treasure than any man combined, though he’s probably the most famous for stealing the Stanley Cup.”

“At one point he had all of Lord Stanley’s treasure,” adds Ransom.

“And he just happens to be our fearless captain’s father,” adds Holster.

Shitty chimes in, “No one knows what happened to Bad Bob, if he’s still alive and terrorizing the oceans, if he’s settled down on land somewhere, or if he’s lost to Davy Jones’ locker. And Jack has made it his mission to find Bad Bob and to find the Stanley Cup, since no one knows where it ended up.”

“Every pirate for a decade has been trying to get their hands on the Cup. Some say it’s the Holy Grail and will grant whoever finds it glory eternal. Others say that it’s filled with enough jewels to make all of us richer than the king himself,” continues Holster

“Either way we all want it, and the captain wants it more than most. So that’s why he acts like he’s got such a stick up his ass,” says Ransom decisively.

 “Because he can't find the Cup?”

“Because no one can!” Shitty exclaims. “Not Jack, not Cutthroat Kent Parson, not his Majesty’s Royal fucking Navy, not even some dick-faced slave trader.”

Eric is so confused. “How do you know it's not at the bottom of the ocean and we’re all just wasting our time?”

All three of them laugh. “You would think that’s a possibility. But according to Jack,” Ransom discloses, “it floats.”

***

That night when Eric falls onto his hammock, every muscle aches, but it’s the pleasant ache of a good, hard day of work. He swabbed the entire deck and even set out to rid the sailors’ quarters of that awful bilgewater smell. He hasn't gotten it all out yet, but he’s optimistic.

While he worked, he talked more to Shitty, Ransom and Holster and got to hear about their histories. All of them had been proud sailors on the _Samwell_ for years, though only Shitty experienced it before Jack was the captain. They confirm what Jack shouted at him that morning: that every single man on the crew either volunteered or was recruited, and none were captives. In fact, Ransom escaped captivity before Jack asked him to come aboard, claiming to have earned his name by fleeing slave traders and gaining a substantial ransom on his head. Holster, a former Navy man, got his name from his skill and prowess with a pistol, while Shitty, who apparently is the ship's boatswain, gave no explanation for his nickname. If Eric had to guess, he'd say it had some basis in his _colorful_ vocabulary. However, all of them call Eric “Bitty” without a thought, which feels surprisingly wonderful.

The more he gets to know them, the more he has to question his prior misconceptions of pirates. On the one hand, the boys are aggressive, dirty, lecherous and unfazed by violence, but they are also cooperative, intelligent, fiercely loyal and protective of their own – a group that now includes him. They make an effort to bond together, eating dinner as a crew every night. The food is atrocious – most of the hardtack has weevils, and the salted meat might as well be leather – but there is plenty of rum and ale to go around. Holster, it turns out, has an incredible singing voice and most nights will lead the boys in a few choruses, which Eric loves. He’s always appreciated a good sea shanty. Overall, ignoring his interactions with Jack, he's been pleasantly surprised by his new pirate mates. As long as he can avoid the captain, he might even enjoy the pirate’s life.

***

As it turns out, the captain is impossible to avoid, especially when he decides to wake Eric up two bells into morning watch.

“Bittle. Get up.”

Jack drags him out of bed and onto the deck. Eric gazes up at the stars and determines that sunrise won't be for another hour.

“It's so early I'm gonna vomit,” he mutters.

“You've never seen the sun rise from a ship’s deck, eh?” Jack responds. “I thought you were a Navy sailor.”

“I was raised by one,” Eric corrects, “but that just means that there was no sympathy and no favoritism when it came to morning duties, so I _have_ seen the sun rise from the deck, _Captain._ And I had to be up even earlier the other half of the year when I was a baker’s apprentice.”

“A baker?”

“Yes.” The captain makes a contemplative noise – Of approval? Disgust? – then turns to grab something over by the mast.

“Here,” says Jack curtly, tossing a sword at Eric’s feet. “You need to learn how to defend yourself.”

Eric gingerly picks up the sword, running a finger along the flat end of the blade. “Don't you mean I need to learn how to fight?”

“Eventually. But for now, I need you to be able to look out for yourself not to be a danger or distraction to the others if we go to battle. Now hold it properly. Like this.”

Jack demonstrates, and Eric copies.

He shows him a number of ways to parry a blow, all of which Eric tries to imitate. However, as soon as he thinks that he might have the hang of it, the captain swings at his head. Eric flinches and falls to the ground as Jack knocks his sword away, his blade just barely missing Eric’s forearm.

He tries not to cry as he pulls himself to his feet. “What in deep-fried hell was that?”

Jack gapes at him. “I came at you slow. I was obvious about the direction I was coming from. Seriously, Bittle…” He shakes his head. “If you're going to survive here, you need to be able to protect yourself, and if you're going to be a successful member of this crew, then eventually you'll need to be able to do damage in battle. If your fear is the only thing holding you back, then we’re going to get you over it.” He looks downs intently, then adds, “Just trust me, okay?”

Eric doesn't know how to respond. This is the same man who's screamed at him, made him feel resented on his ship, and then attacked him with a sword, but here he is going out of his way to teach him how to protect himself. It's enough to make anyone wary.

He picks up his sword again. “Then how long are we going to keep doing this?” he asks.

“As long as it takes,” says Jack, getting back into position. “But actually,” he admits, “the boys need to repair some of these railings, so we have to be done by seven bells. Ready?” He doesn't wait for Eric to answer, but simply takes a swing. This time, Eric parries.

***

The next few days follow the same pattern. Every morning, the captain wakes him up before sunrise and teaches him how to wield a sword. At seven bells, the rest of the crew arrives on the deck for quick rations, and then the day’s work begins.

Swabbing the deck and keeping the ship spick and span isn't the most exciting job, but it needs to be done. The benefit though is that it doesn't require much thought and takes him to all corners of the ship, which allows Eric to meet just about everyone.

He also hears stories. He learns about _Samwell_ ’s previous battles and conquests. Shitty tells him about the time Holster sunk a ship with a single cannonball and the time Ransom navigated them out of a raging typhoon. He hears about the fights they won in New Haven and the chaos they caused in Boston. He learns that their captain will never sink a slaver, but that he boards them to kill the crew and unshackle the would-be slaves. Furthermore, Ransom and Holster tell him – in great detail – about their romantic conquests, which Eric really, _really_ doesn't need to know anything about.

Every night, they eat together, drink together and chirp each other, and Eric quickly begins to feel less like an outsider and more like a brother.

***

One night after finding _another_ weevil in his ship’s biscuit, Eric goes to the quartermaster’s cabin after dinner.

When he enters, Lardo looks up at him and closes her account book. “What’s up Bitty?”

“I was wondering if I could help out with the galley, keeping it clean and organized,” he offers. “I managed the pantries in my family’s bakery, so I know my way around a kitchen.”

She hums thoughtfully. “I don't see why not. Other than to check the rum levels, it's not like anyone pays much attention to it anyway.”

“A regular cleaning would at least keep the bugs out of the biscuits,” Eric adds. “I also have another proposition for you, but it will have to wait until shore leave, and I might have to run it past the captain first…”

She grins. “What did you have in mind?”

***

They reach Port Royal exactly two weeks after Eric joins the crew, and it’s clear how desperate everyone is for a break – everyone except Jack, that is. True to Shitty’s comments that first day, Jack’s attitude only gets progressively worse the closer they get to shore. On their last day before landfall, he had locked himself in his cabin and refused to speak to anyone, even going so far as to cancel their early morning sword fighting clinic, which was fine by Eric. He's not sure if he would have been capable of surviving the captain at his most aggressive. Even with Jack at his most patient, Bitty has had a hard time keeping up, so this new layer of hostility would likely result in a lost limb or two.

Eric on the other hand is _very_ excited about shore leave. With the help of Lardo, he comes up with a plan that even Jack agreed to (just on a trial basis, but Bitty is confident).

“Don't forget the rum!” Shitty reminds him as he and Lardo set off towards the market. “I'd rather starve to death in a drunken stupor than eat the best ship’s biscuits sober.”

Eric dismisses him. “That’s only because you’ve never eaten my ship’s biscuits.” Then he adds, “But don't worry, I won't forget the alcohol. I'm not an idiot.”

Shitty claps him on the back, “Attaboy, Bitty.”

As soon as the ship settles in the port, most of the boys head off immediately in search of a hot meal, a hot woman or both, while Eric and Lardo go directly to a local inn. Through a combination of bribery and intimidation, they manage to obtain access to the kitchen for the evening and spend the next few hours shopping and acquiring supplies.

Once everything has been purchased, they return to the inn kitchen, and Eric gets to work. He starts measuring, mixing and rolling sheets and sheets of dough. Lardo assists when she can, both as an extra set of hands and as the expert on quantity. With each batch of biscuits, she diligently tallies the weight and number.

Some of the boys find them a few hours in. “There you are, Bits! What are you doing working your ass off back here? We’re on leave. Take a break!” shouts Shitty.

“Why aren't you out there enjoying the considerable amount of pussy to be had?” Ransom asks, throwing his arm around Eric’s shoulder.

Holster does the same on his other side. “Yeah, you should be getting mad pussy right now, not baking.”

Eric almost chokes, managing to stutter out, “I'm not really… in the mood… for, um, that.” He squeezes away and flits over to the oven. “I'm very busy with an old family recipe for hardtack, which I guarantee it will taste twice as good and last twice as long as those bricks we were eating before.” He pulls out the latest batch, pleased with the beautiful wisps of steam rising from the tray. When he looks up, all of boys are staring at him. “I like to bake,” he adds sheepishly.

Ransom sniffs the air. “What the fuck is that smell? Goddamn! It smells like my aunt’s house, but with more love and innocence.”

“That might be the best thing I have ever smelled in my life,” says Holster. “It makes everything I have ever smelled before in my life smell like a shithole.”

Shitty laughs, “That's probably because you've never smelled anything beyond your own stench.”

“So what is it, Bitty?”

“Oh, well,” Eric starts, pulling a cloth away from an area in the corner. “I made some pies,” he says, gesturing at a half dozen pies cooling by the window. The smell really is intoxicating, catapulting his senses back to his family’s bakery when he first started learning his Moo Maw’s recipes. It's warm and sweet, like a piece of home all the way across the ocean.

“Well fuck me sideways and shiver me timbers. When do we get to eat those?” asks Shitty. He reaches out, and Bitty smacks his hand away.

“Two of them are for the innkeepers, for letting me use their kitchen. The rest are for tonight, for the entire crew.” He shrugs. “There's a lot of butter in them, as well as the fruit, so they won't keep on the ship, but I figured the men deserve a treat.”

The boys look at him dubiously, but if he hasn't already won over his crewmates, they won't be able to resist after trying his pies. He only hopes the captain has a chance to try them too.

Shitty and the boys don’t stay long after that, leaving the kitchen with a promise to round up the rest of the men later that night. True to their word, by the time the sun has set, the inn is full of pirates and their raucous laughter and drunken revelries.

After dinner, Eric comes out with the pies. He’s made a combination of apple, banana, and coconut cream pies. It's a decadent indulgence, the likes of which none of them have experienced in a long time and some of them have never experienced. Most of the crew is rendered speechless, resorting to groans and hums of pleasure. Shitty is not one of them, spouting off filthy commentary about the frankly felonious things he would like to do to the pies with every bite.

Eric surveys the scene, arms crossed proudly as he watches his new crew – his new friends – enjoying his handiwork. He smiles. Pies have always been his specialty.

Lardo sidles up to him and nudges his shoulder. When he turns to look over, she cracks open the box she's holding, revealing the special chocolate pie that Bitty baked especially for her for all of her help. “I'm gonna take this back to the ship, so I can enjoy it in peace,” she says.

Eric smiles, “Don't let the boys see, or you'll have to share.”

She pulls the box closer to her. “I'm not letting these animals near my pie. I earned it. Though I might share at least one slice with the captain.”

Eric looks around the dining room. “Is he not here?”

Lardo shakes her head. “He never leaves the ship unless absolutely necessary.”

Bitty frowns. “Oh.”

She waves goodbye, and he watches as she tiptoes away unnoticed by the hoard of pirates still distracted by the act of devouring the last morsels of pie. Once she’s gone, he moves over to sit next to Shitty.

“These were fucking delicious, brah,” Shitty declares, wiping crumbs out of his mustache.

“I’m glad you liked—” Before he can finish the sentence, he has to move out of the way for Shitty to jump onto the table. “Let’s give it up for Bitty!” he shouts. “The best motherfucking pirate baker on the seven seas!”

All the men cheer, whooping and raising their glasses in agreement while Eric ducks his head. It might not be written outright in the pirates’ code, but he's pretty sure that blushing is not considered an appropriate response in most situations. He blushes anyway and remembers this night for many years to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I am in the market for a beta. If you are interested, drop me a comment.~~ This is now beta-ed!


	2. Chapter 2

It’s a tight fit for two up in the crow’s nest, but Bitty doesn’t mind. Ever since Shitty first invited him up here, it has quickly become one of his favorite spots on the ship. For one, it has the best view. It also puts the greatest distance between him and the bilgewater smell.  Bitty loves living on a ship, but he won’t lie; he can only take the smell of mildew and unwashed boy for so long before he needs to take a breath of fresh air.

The air today is crisp and clear, and they have a good wind at their back. The _Samwell_ has been making decent time since it took off from Port Royal. As nice as it was to have access to an oven and a fully equipped kitchen, Bitty had been relieved to return to the ship. It was getting harder and harder to avoid Holster and Ransom’s attempts to set him up with a nice – or notorious – girl. Thankfully, they did not follow through with their threat to physically carry him into the nearest brothel, or he’s not sure what he would have done.

Instead, he throws himself into his new responsibilities managing the ship’s galley, taking pride in the improved conditions of their daily meals. There might not be pie, but his rum-soaked biscuits are an instant favorite with the boys. After a few weeks at sea, it’s practically considered a decadent dessert.

He's also keeping busy getting to know their newest deckhands.

Towards the end of their last day on land, Bitty was returning to the _Samwell_ with Shitty and Ransom when they came across what was apparently a typical scene: Jack interrogating three young men on the dock in front of the ship _._ Lardo was standing by with a ledger, taking notes as Jack paced in front of the boys, frowning.

Eric took a step toward them, but found his way blocked by Shitty’s arm. “Hold up. New frogs. This is always good.”

While Shitty guided them closer but out of the way, Jack stopped in front of the first boy.

“What's your name?” he demanded.

“William Poindexter, sir, but I'm Dex to my friends.”

“And do I look like your friend?”

His eyes had widened, but he stood his ground. “Of course not, but only my mother calls me ‘William’.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “So Dex, why do you want to join the crew of the _Samwell_?”

“I studied mathematics, and I was the navigator on a Navy vessel, but the conditions were awful, and the captain was dishonest and cruel. Given the choice between working for a criminal with a corrupt moral code and working for a pirate, the choice was easy.”

A few of them laughed, although Jack didn’t. Dex continued, “I was going to join your crew or Cutthroat Kent’s, whoever I found first.”

Jack froze, eyes narrowing, but he took a deep breath and continued. “You’re lucky you found me first.” He then turned to face Bitty and the others. “Ransom,” he called out, “what do you think? Can we use another navigator?”

Ransom rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don't know. It could only help. And would be nice to not always have to pull double duty as navigator and surgeon after battles.”

Jack nodded and moved on to the next boy, who had had a guitar strapped to his back and, unlike the other two, looked completely relaxed.

“And you, you're a musician?”

“Yeah. I'm Derek Nurse.”

“Holy shit! Is that you, Nursey?” exclaimed Shitty, walking up next to Jack. “What up, bro?”

“You know him?” Jack asked Shitty.

“Yeah, we grew up together. He's a good dude and a hell of a musician.”

Jack considered Nurse, looking intrigued. “It's been awhile since we had a musician on board.”

“It would certainly be good for morale. I’m telling you, he’s legit!” Shitty said, clapping Jack on the back. “Although I’m a bit surprised. I never knew piracy was your thing, Nursey.”

Nursey shrugged. “I'm a bit of a wanderer. I wanted to travel, and I can shoot a gun or load a cannon or whatever. It's chill.”

Jack nodded again, which Bitty took to be some sign of approval, and had moved on to the last boy while Shitty walked over to stand by Lardo.

The third potential pirate was practically bouncing in what seemed like a constantly shifting state of fear, excitement and nerves. Jack’s arm jerked forward and tensed, as if he wanted to reach out and hold his shoulder down to keep him still.

“Why are you doing that?” Jack asked.

“I'm just so excited! And terrified!” He babbled on. “I've always wanted to be a pirate, but I never thought I would get to meet _Jack Zimmermann_. I was born on a ship, too, just like you, only it was a fishing boat, not a pirate ship. But that's okay right? I was a net minder back home, so I know all kinds of knots and how to repair rigging, but I can fish too, and I was thinking that would be helpful, because I know how hard it is to get fresh food on a ship.”

“Oh my goodness, you have to take him!” Bitty shouted, before clapping a hand over his mouth in alarm.  “I'm sorry,” Bitty muttered. “I didn't mean to overstep, Captain, but as your new galley manager, I must strongly encourage bringing on any man who reduces the amount of _salt horse_ we must consume on this ship. We’re not savages!”

The captain stared at him, completely boggled by his outburst, but did not respond, choosing instead to turn back to the overexcited sailor.

“Do you have a name?” Jack asked.

“You can call me Chowder,” he responded uncertainly.

Jack said nothing for a moment, then nodded at each of them. “Chowder, Nursey, Dex.” He turned to Lardo. “Get these men on board and settled.”

“Aye aye,” she replied, leading the boys up onto the ship.

Since that day, the three newest members of the _Samwell_ had settled right in with the crew. Bitty’s almost jealous with how easy it was for them. When he mentions it, Shitty twists around on the small platform of the crow’s nest. “Don't be jealous, Bitty. You settled in pretty quick yourself.”

Bitty sighs. “I guess, but not with the captain. He still hates my guts.”

“If he hates you so much, then why do you spend so much time together,” Shitty retorts.

“Because I’m a disgrace to his crew and all pirates everywhere. He literally wakes up early to fight me!”

Shitty laughs. “Nah man, he wouldn't go through all the trouble if he hated you. He’d just kill you in your sleep like the scoundrel he is.”

“Thanks, Shitty. That's so reassuring…”

Bitty sighs again and leans forward on the rope support. “When I first got here… When you guys overtook our ship, why did you even ask for people to join up if you knew Jack liked to pick his own crew?”

Shitty laughs again. “Shit, Bitty, I do that every time we take a ship. It's hilarious because those landlubbers always freak out, like they're too morally superior to become a fucking pirate, but they're perfectly happy exploiting an entire continent with triangular trade.” He chuckles and looks at Bitty. “You're the first person ever to step forward and volunteer. I figured that even if Jack didn't pick you, you're the kind of guy we want on our crew.”

Bitty doesn't know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t, simply stares out over the endless blue.

Shitty continues softly, “You don't have to tell me, or any of us. I know you were looking for a fresh start, but if you ever do want to share what it is you're running from, just know that whatever it is, it's okay.”

“I do want to tell you… You guys have become like my brothers, some of my best friends, but the timing was never right, and…I guess I’m just a bit scared.”

“Seriously, bro, you can tell us. Or not. It won’t change a thing. Our jobs are literally to kill people and take their money, so whatever you did, we still got your back, and you’re far from the only one on board with a secret. I just want you to know it’s your choice one way or another.”

“Thanks, Shitty. It’s hard because I only got into trouble because I trusted the wrong person. But I feel like I can trust you.” He trails off. “Ugh, it’s just remembering it makes my stomach hurt. I should have known better…” Bitty shuts his eyes. When he opens them, Shitty is looking at him, patient but not prying.

It takes a minute, but Bitty takes a deep breath and continues. “He was an officer on my father’s ship. We were close, or at least, I thought we were. And I thought we were alone. And when I tried… When I… well, some of the other sailors saw us.... He ended up having me arrested because, well... I’m gay. And here we are.”

He’s never said the words out loud before. It’s unexpectedly liberating.

Shitty places a hand on Bitty’s shoulder. “Thanks for trusting me with that, bro. I hope you know though that this doesn’t change a thing. If you can’t be free to be yourself as a pirate, then what is the fucking point? We have your back, man, always.”

“Thanks, Shitty.”

For a long moment, they stand together silently, looking out over the ocean. Then he sees a tiny fleck on the horizon.

“Hey Shitty, do you see that? Port side, right over there. I think it’s a ship.” Bitty points at the tiny white spot.

“I think you’re right” Shitty grins at him. “‘Swawesome. We better go alert the boys, Bits. It looks like we’re going to have a little fun.”

They slide down thick ropes and land on the deck with a satisfying thud. Shitty leaps over to the forecastle and picks up a telescope. “Yep, looks like a merchant ship...Dutch, if I'm seeing their flags right. And it’s riding low in the water,” he says with glee. He turns to Bitty, pointing at him with the telescope. “Go tell the captain that there's plunder to be had.”

Bitty heads directly for the captain’s cabin and pushes the door open. “Captain?”

“Bittle!” Jack looks up startled from where he is sitting, head hanging despondently in his hands. Bitty immediately regrets not having knocked first.

“Um, sorry to…interrupt, but we’ve spotted a ship. Shitty says it's a Dutch merchant. He wanted me to let you know.”

Jack looks at him, contemplating the message. Bitty can almost see the plan forming in his head. After a moment, he grabs his coat and his sword from a small table on the side of the room. “Bittle, alert all the men below deck and tell them to prepare for battle. I want all able-bodied hands ready on the deck within the hour. Tell Shitty to raise the Dutch colors.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Bitty goes to leave, but then turns back to Jack. “Whatever it is that’s bothering you, it will get better. You’ll figure it out.”

Jack looks at him, his expression the most exposed he has ever seen it. “Thanks, Bittle,” he mutters.

“I should be thanking you” Bitty responds, “for all of the sword clinics! Thanks to you, I might actually survive this battle.”

Jack smiles, just barely. “Just promise not to crumple into a ball in the middle of the deck today, and we’re even. Now get to it!”

The entire crew quickly gathers on the deck and begins preparations, loading guns and sharpening swords. Shitty even puts on a shirt and coat, if only to store spare bullets in his pockets. The distance between the _Samwell_ and the Dutch schooner closes swiftly as the excitement in the air grows. Ransom takes over the steering wheel, setting a course that will eventually have the two ships parallel and alongside one another.

As soon as they’re close enough that Bitty can see the people moving around on the other ship, Jack calls out, “Hoist the Jolly Roger!” Shitty yanks down the decoy flag and raises the black skull and crossbones. The Dutch ship takes notice and begins turning away, their crew visibly panicking as they try to get out of the range of fire.

“Fire at the sails!” Jack shouts. Two cannon shots fire out, piercing two major sails on the ship. The effect is instantaneous. The schooner slows to a halt, allowing the _Samwell_ to pull up directly adjacent to it.

“Throw the hooks!” Four metal grappling hooks land soundly onto the handrails across the way, latching the two ships together.

“Ready men?” Jack yells out, sword drawn and eyes blazing.

“Aye!” the men chorus.

“Attack!”

Everything erupts into shouting and gunfire, as the _Samwell_ crew begins to swing across the deck and onto the merchant vessel. Bitty grabs a rope, gets a running start and leaps over to the other ship. He lands on the deck and pulls out his cutlass. There are men running in every direction, the air already hazy from shots fired. Bitty darts around the deck, weaving around his crew fighting hand-to-hand with the merchants aboard. His hands shake as they grip tightly around the hilt of his sword. While the pirates outnumber the armed sailors at the moment, more are rushing out from below deck carrying weapons. They need to end this decisively before they have a chance to even the odds.

Between the smoke and the commotion, it's becoming hard to see, so Bitty grabs onto a nearby rope ladder, stashes his sword and climbs up above the fray. He spots Ransom and Holster back to back at the center of the deck taking down any man who comes close enough. They fight in tandem, like a single unit, always knowing exactly where the other one is. A huge attacker swings a sword right at Ransom’s head, but he ducks, and the blade is stopped by Holster, parrying the attack from behind over his shoulders. Holster hacks upward just as Ransom kicks the man’s legs out from under him, causing him to topple backwards onto the deck – an easy target. Ransom makes quick work of him, while Holster – who never even turned around – continues fighting with his own opponent.

Over on the stern, Bitty sees Shitty kicking forcefully at the ship’s rudder. There's a series of loud cracks as the wood shatters and separates, destroying the steering system. A man rushes at him, but Shitty flips him up over the railing and into the water.

Bitty clings to the ladder, wondering if and how he can help his crew in the combat below.

He turns to face the bow and sees Jack fighting with two assailants simultaneously. It's a wonder to behold. Bitty has been training with Jack for weeks now, hours and hours each day watching and learning how to defend himself under Jack’s patient tutelage. He knows Jack had been holding back, starting slow and going easy on him while he learned, but he hadn't realized just how much he held back until now. Jack moves like his sword is an extension of himself, displaying both his explosive strength and graceful skill. He's so good that it only seems fair that he's fighting two men at once, as if that’s the only way to have an equal match.

Three men, however, is a different story.

Jack’s back is turned so he doesn’t see the third sailor stalking towards him with a pistol. Bitty does though. He doesn’t think, he just leaps down and starts running. It’s like he’s invisible, zigzagging through the fighting and gunshots without anyone stopping him. He reaches the pistol man, pausing just long enough that the man has time to turn around and aim his hostile glare at Bitty. He points his gun directly at him, but Bitty beats him to it. He takes his cutlass and swings, hitting him just below the ribs. The man’s body crumples, and he hits the ground, the pistol sliding directly in front of Bitty’s feet.

He picks it up and looks over at Jack and his two opponents, fighting their way to the edge of the bow. The two Dutch sailors maneuver Jack so that he's cornered at the very point. The two of them strike at once, a blow that Jack deftly blocks, but the force of both of them knocks his cutlass into the ocean.

Bitty doesn't hesitate. He points the pistol and fires. It hits the assailant on the left directly in the head, and he tumbles into the water. His partner turns abruptly, glaring at Bitty. He lunges at him, but Bitty ducks out of the way. With no way of reloading, Bitty chucks the pistol at his head. The man dodges it easily, but it gives Bitty enough time to steel himself. He clutches his sword and strikes. It's a direct hit, right in the gut.

As the man collapses, Bitty looks up and meets Jack's eye. Jack looks at him furiously before sprinting over to pick up the fallen man’s cutlass. He digs around in the pistol man’s pocket as Bitty watches, frozen on the spot in shock, unable to believe that he took down three men on his own. Jack stands up holding a set of keys – the man must have been the captain or quartermaster – and drags Bitty away by the arm toward the main cabin.  

He unlocks the door of the captain’s cabin and starts cataloguing the valuables: silver trinkets, maps, medicines and an entire chest full of gold pieces.

“Go get some of the others to take this back to the _Samwell_ ,” Jack orders. Bitty nods and rushes out of the cabin, finding Nursey and Dex almost immediately and sending them in to help the captain. He looks around for more available hands and realizes that most of the Dutch sailors have been disarmed or killed. Shitty is circling around a group of the prisoners, giving Bitty a brief sense of _déjà vu_. He moves on and gathers up a few more of the crew members and sends them in Jack’s direction.

He spots Lardo, clearly outdueling one of the final armed sailors. She knocks him to his knees and holds a cutlass to his throat.

“Lardo,” Bitty calls out to her. “The captain has the keys to the main cabin. He wants everyone to start loading up all of the bounty.”

“Aye aye, Bits,” she replies. “I'll organize the load out.”

She knocks her captive over the head with the hilt of her cutlass, and he’s immediately out cold. She then starts directing the crew, who begin loading up anything valuable and bringing it back to the _Samwell_.

Before the hour is up, they've disarmed the entire crew and have taken anything worth taking. Almost as quickly as they arrived, they leave the schooner stranded and penniless, spinning slowly in circles, going nowhere, and sail off towards the west.

The men are in high spirits. There were no casualties and the plunder was plentiful.

Bitty is just finishing loading up a couple barrels of rum, when he sees Jack standing on the edge of the deck.

“Hey, Jack! I’m so glad I caught you. ‘Cause, um, I wanted to say that was a good raid and thank—”

Jack cuts him off. “Bittle.” The anger is evident in his voice and the tension of his shoulders. “With the pistol. It was a lucky shot.”

He turns away and heads directly for the captain’s cabin, slamming the door behind him.

***

The next morning, Jack doesn’t wake him up before sunrise for sword-fighting lessons, but Bitty is up anyway. He climbs above deck, not surprised in the slightest to see Jack already up there himself, leaning on the rail and looking out over the water. Bitty walks over, the creaking planks in the deck alerting Jack of his arrival without him having to announce it. He walks all the way over until they’re standing side by side, not looking at each other, not speaking, just listening to the waves hit the side of the ship. They stand there in charged silence for what feels like a long time.

“Bittle.” Jack looks almost pained. “I should apologize for what I said yesterday. And I should thank you for... for saving my life.”

Bitty looks up at him, but Jack won’t meet his eye. “You don’t have to apologize. I gave it a lot of thought last night, and you were right. It _was_ a lucky shot. I had no idea what I was doing up there. I was lucky, you were lucky, but neither of us should be relying on luck.” Jack finally looks at him with an unreadable expression. Bitty takes a deep breath and continues. “You should teach me how to fight alongside you, not just defend myself. Like it or not, you have a reputation, and you will always be a major target. They don’t notice me though. I’m small, but I’m fast—”

“You’re terrified!” interrupts Jack. “Every time I come at you when we’re sparring, it’s like you’re about to flinch and collapse in on yourself.”

“Yes, but when that man came at you with the pistol, I didn’t hesitate.”

Jack doesn’t respond to that. He simply turns his head back to the ocean. Bitty shivers slightly, rubbing his arms at the pre-dawn chill.

Finally, Jack responds “If you still want to continue practicing, I can add in some offensive maneuvers to our lessons. But I need you to toughen up and give something back in return. Battling together is all about trust. I need you to trust that I’m not going to hurt you, that I’ll never hurt anyone on my crew.”

Bitty scrunches his shoulders. “It’s hard for me to trust anyone,” he mumbles. He turns and faces Jack. “But I can try. I want to trust you.”

“You can. I’ve got your back.”

Jack steps away from the rail and unsheathes his sword. Bitty does the same. “Let’s start with a basic feint…”

***

For weeks, they continue to learn how to fight together. Jack is a harsh, but surprisingly patient teacher. He’s made Bitty cry on multiple occasions, which is...not good. At the same time though, they _are_ starting to be more in sync. The more Bitty learns, the easier it gets. He notices himself getting stronger, defter in his technique and more courageous in his actions. One morning, Jack even gets Ransom and Holster out of bed early so that they can practice fighting as a unit against attackers; it’s a surprisingly well-matched scrimmage.

Also surprising is the way Jack’s demeanor towards Bitty has changed outside of their early morning practices. He no longer glares at him, but offers him the same supportive attention he gives to all of the crew members. In fact, once he starts noticing it, Bitty enjoys watching how Jack interacts with all of the crew members. He takes the time to check in with every single deckhand every single day. He’s obviously friendlier with some of them, like Shitty and Lardo, but he’s even surprisingly close to Chowder and the frogs. It becomes clearer every day why he inspires such loyalty among the crew. Most of them would go to the ends of the Earth for their captain, and Bitty increasingly finds himself in that category.

However, it’s in battle where Jack truly shines. In calmer times, he is quick to assert the democratic ideologies of the pirates’ code, often deferring to Lardo, Shitty or even a popular vote to make decisions. On a raid though, he commands attention and commands the boys without a hint of uncertainty or doubt. He’s a mastermind when it comes to strategy, always seeming to know exactly what plan to execute to ensure success, and he’s – in a word – spectacular when it comes hand-to-hand combat.

The more Bitty learns from Jack, the more he loves fighting alongside him in real battles. He’s become so accustomed to Jack’s dueling style that he’s gained a sixth sense of where he is and what he’s going to do next. On one raid on a Spanish galleon, they took down half the opposing crew in the course of three minutes, their skills complementing each other so well that none of their attackers ever stood a chance.

The abundance of successful raids leads to a rising pile of wealth and loot to be divided into shares – as well as a rise in demand from the men to spend it. However, with every successful raid, Jack becomes less interested in money and more interested in information. He kidnaps captains and crew members alike, always asking for the same thing: information on the whereabouts of the Stanley Cup. Most of the captives don’t know anything useful or else have only outdated rumors and wild speculation. One prisoner however, proves somewhat more useful.

“I’ve seen it. It was on a ship leaving Nassau not too long ago. I think I heard it was heading for England. If you’re fast enough, you can probably intercept it. Now please, let me go! I don’t want to die.”

Shitty, standing behind him with a dagger at his throat, laughs. “Now that’s up to the captain. If he thinks your information is worth it, we’ll send you back to your ship. If not…” He drags the blade across his neck, just barely scraping the skin.

Bitty watches from the background as Jack frowns at the whimpering sailor, who spouts off a few additional details about the ship, its crew and its final destination. Jack then nods at Shitty, who releases him. The man falls to the ground gasping. Holster drags him up by the arm, points a pistol at his head and leads him to the edge of the deck where a plank lays connecting the two ships. “Goodbye, good sir. Thanks for the plentiful bounty you have so generously given to us,” Holster chirps. He scampers across as fast as he can, and then Holster yanks the board back onto the _Samwell_.

Later that evening, Bitty sits down next to Jack during dinner. He asks, “Do you think he was telling the truth? That man we interrogated today.”

Jack chews thoughtfully then answers. “I think so. It matches up with some other information I have on the Cup.”

Bitty nods. “Do you think there’s a chance we can find it and catch up with it?”

“Only time will tell, Bittle.”

***

As luck would have it, they catch up to it three weeks later in the middle of the Atlantic. Bitty has no idea how Jack knows it's the right ship from a distance, but somehow he's certain.

The air is crackling with anticipation, more so than usual before a raid. No one says it outright, but the boys whisper among themselves.

“ _The Stanley Cup is on that ship_.”

“ _We’re going to get the Cup_.”

Outwardly, Jack is as collected as ever, but Bitty is getting better at reading his features, and there's definitely a hint of anticipation there.

They don't bother with a decoy flag because the _Samwell_ is that much faster than the large British frigate that there's no way it would be able to outrun them.

“Prepare the cannons, men,” Jack orders. “It looks like they're turning to fire on us. Let's beat them to it. Aim for their portholes.”

By the time the frigate has managed to turn into a firing position, they already have the cannons aimed and loaded.

“Fire!”

The simultaneous booms are followed by the earsplitting cracks of the hull splitting and then, shockingly, multiple explosions on the other ship, as if something ignited their gunpowder stores. The British frigate erupts into chaos, and Jack uses their distraction as an opportunity to direct the _Samwell_ into position to board.

Bitty stands between Jack and Shitty, waiting for the go-ahead to hop over and attack.

“Let's go boys!” Shitty shouts. “Let's do this thing!”

“You heard Shitty,” Jack calls out in response. “Attack!”

The crew boards the ship and are immediately ambushed by the British sailors. Jack and Bitty spring into action, plowing down attackers with practiced ease. Bitty reads Jack’s position, and Jack capitalizes on all of Bitty’s assists. Yet with every man they take down, two more appear in his place.

At one point, Jack pulls Bitty out of the main scuffle. “Bittle, there's too many of them to just fight them off one by one. We need a new strategy.” He points to the doorway of the main cabin where a large group of British sailors are blocking off and defending the entrance. “That seems to be where they're focused, so we need to get in there.”

“But there's so many of them!”

“That's why we take them out in a different way. See up there?” Jack points to a large sail above the throng. “You climb up the mast to the yardarm and release the sail. It will fall and take out most of them, then I'll come in and take care of the rest.”

“But it’s so high… Jack, I don’t think I should—”

“Bittle.” Jack clasps the back of his neck, starting intently down at him. “I’ve got your back.”

“O-okay.” Bitty nods and heads for the base of the mast. As he climbs, he watches as Jack fights his way into position. He fails to notice, however, the huge British sailor climbing up behind him.

He gets to the end of the beam, pulls out his sword and begins chopping at the knots holding up the sail. He detaches the first half of the rigging, one side of the sail swinging down sharply, and scoots over to the other side. It’s only then that he sees the goon climbing up onto the beam. Bitty rushes cut down the final knots before the man gets to him.

It all happens in slow motion.

Bitty hacks at the rigging one last time. The sail comes lose, collapsing onto the deck with surprising force, crushing anyone unlucky enough to be standing beneath it. Jack leaps in and cuts down all of the men left standing, most of them staring upwards at the falling sail. At the same time, the goon reaches Bitty. He catches him before Bitty has a chance to block or defend himself, shoving into him and hip-checking him off the mast.

Time slows to a halt, and Bitty feels more like he's sinking in water than falling through the air, at least until he slams into the deck.

***

The details from the end of the battle are fuzzy. Bitty remembers someone helping him up and leading him back to the _Samwell_. He doesn't know the outcome of Jack’s risky plan or if they were able to make it out of there with the Cup. All he knows is that his head is killing him and the intermittent waves of nausea make it almost impossible to get out of bed.

Every few hours, Jack checks on him, but he never says much, which truthfully is a blessing, since even following a conversation feels like a struggle.

It continues that way for three days, until the symptoms become manageable enough for Bitty to go above deck and join the boys for meals. Even though he’s feeling better, they are all distinctly concerned.

“It was scary, Bits,” Shitty confesses. “It was right after the sail dropped, so most of us were already looking that way. We all saw you fall. At first we weren't even sure you survived…”

There’s a moment where no one says anything until Bitty breaks the silence. “What happened after?”

“It was sort of nuts,” Holster admits. “I mean, we had all just seen a ton of their guys crushed, and then you fell, and no one really knew what was going on. Jack though…” He trails off. “I've never seen him that intense.”

“Yeah, he went off,” continues Ransom. “He basically destroyed the guy that checked you and then took down just about every other guy left on their ship. Then he went and kicked down the door to the main cabin.”

“It was impressive but terrifying,” Holster concludes.

Bitty looks around. “Where _is_ Jack?”

The others shake their heads.

“He's been holed up in his cabin for days, since we got back on the ship,” says Lardo. “He only comes out to check on you.”

“Oh.” Bitty doesn't understand. “But why is he in there? What about the Cup?”

“That's the problem,” she continues. “After all of that, the Cup wasn't even there.” She looks off into the distance. “We’re back to square one.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks to [BakedHam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BakedHam/pseuds/BakedHam) and [BaegentWashington](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanTheFreewoodGuy/pseuds/BaegentWashington), who despite their irrational love of the Oxford comma, are spectacular betas and wonderful people.
> 
> This chapter borrows heavily from the original comic and just a little bit from the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie, but I do it out of intense love for both.

As soon as his headaches pass, Bitty eases back into his duties, as well as his morning practices with the captain. He still gets fatigued pretty quickly, so he starts by taking it slow. Jack treats him almost as if he's a beginner again, and some days it certainly feels that way.

On the bad days, Jack ends the clinics early, and the two of them sit on the forecastle and watch the sunrise until the rest of the boys are up.

Today is one of those days. They trained for a good hour or so, but a particularly athletic spin left Bitty a bit light-headed, so they'd had to stop. Jack watches hawk-like as Bitty sits down on an empty cask by the helm, refusing to sit himself until he's sure that Bitty isn't going to faint or fall over. It's the kind of fussing Bitty’s had to put up with since his injury. It would be an endearing gesture from the captain if it weren't so frustrating in its necessity.

They sit side by side and watch as the sky shifts from deep blues to soft pinks and oranges, the waves reflecting opalescent in the early light. Bitty would never say it, but the reflection off the water is the exact same shade as Jack’s eyes...

As the thought crosses his mind, his stomach twists, and his head feels fuzzy. It's probably just his injury making him feel this way, but he tamps down all thoughts of Jack’s features just the same.

They sit in comfortable silence for what feels like ages – although it's probably just a few minutes – before Bitty’s chatty nature gets the better of him.

“You wanna know one of my favorite parts about being on a ship?” Bitty asks.

“What’s that?” A breeze rustles through Jack’s hair, and there’s that fuzzy feeling again... Bitty ignores it.

“I love how you get to see both the sunrise and the sunset over the ocean,” he answers. “The colors always remind me of pie filling.”

Jack chuckles softly. “It's always pie with you, isn't it, Bittle?”

Bitty sighs loudly. “Not lately. These days it’s always hardtack.”

“I mean, when we're sitting here. You’re always going on and on about the pies you want to make.”

“Because the sunrise reminds me of pie filling,” Bitty says, like it's obvious. “That's what I was just saying!”

“Okay, okay, I get it. If you weren't a pirate, you’d be a baker.”

After a moment, Bitty asks seriously, “Did you ever want to be anything other than a pirate?”

Jack shrugs. “Not really. I always loved sailing. I couldn't imagine not being on the ocean.” He considers something for a minute. “I guess I could have joined the Royal Navy, but it's not anything I ever really considered. By the time I was born, both of my parents were wanted pirates. I never knew anything else.”   

Bitty hums and looks out. “For what it's worth, I think you're a great pirate. I can’t think of anyone else who I’d want to be captain.”

“Thanks, Bittle.” Jack gives him a small smile, then turns his attention to the bright orange light on the eastern horizon.

***

Weeks pass and before he knows it, Bitty is back in his usual form, which is good because there is so much work to do in the galley.  For three days, the wind died completely, leaving them becalmed and adrift. With nowhere to go, Chowder took the opportunity to throw down a fishing net and see what he could catch.

By the time the wind picked up and the _Samwell_ proceeded onward, Chowder had caught a mountain of fish ready to be cleaned, cut and preserved.

“Um, Bitty, can you help me with something?” Chowder asks him once they’ve sailing again.

He leads Bitty to the bow, where there are two knives laid on a wooden board next to the barrel of freshly-caught fish. “What do you need, Chowder? Do you not know how to prepare them?”

“Oh, no!” Chowder insists. “I know how to do all the fish stuff. I just... don't like to touch the heads.”

Bitty stares at him. “You're a fisherman... who doesn't like fish heads?”

“Well, I'm a pirate now,” replies Chowder. “I don't need to like them.” He looks pleadingly at Bitty. “Will you please just help me cut them off?” he begs. “I'll do all the rest I promise!”

Bitty chuckles. “Bless your heart. Of course I'll help!”

They settle in to work on the deck, Bitty removing heads and Chowder salting and filleting them. Once Bitty gets over the ick factor, it's actually surprisingly calming repetitive work, almost like chopping up fruit for a pie. “What do you think we should do with all of these fish heads?” Bitty asks. “If we had a real kitchen and, you know, a stove, I would make some sort of stew, but we may just have to toss them.”

“Maybe we should throw them overboard and see if we can attract any sharks!” exclaims Chowder.

“You _like_ sharks?”

Chowder nods. “Oh yeah! They’re the best!”

Bitty shakes his head, smiling. “If you say so. To me, it seems like they’re always looking for a fight, you know?”

“Um, speaking of fighting, there's something I want to ask you...” Chowder trails off. He’s one of the easiest crew members to read, so Bitty knows instantly there is something on his mind.

“What is it, Chowder?”

Chowder fiddles with his knife. He looks troubled. “Well, it’s Nursey and Dex. I don’t want to get them in trouble with the captain, but—”

“Oh! Let me guess,” Bitty interjects. “You’re sick and tired of their sneering at one another.”

“They just argue all the time!” complains Chowder. “It’s hard to get anything done or even sleep because they’re constantly arguing. On our last raid, they missed an entire chest of gold because they were arguing, and I had to go back and get it myself. And then Dex always says that Nursey’s crazy, and Nursey always says that Dex is uptight.”

Chowder sighs. “They’re the best mates I have on the ship, but I have no idea how to fix this. Can you talk to them? Please?” He looks at Bitty so earnestly. “And please, please, please don’t tell the captain,” he adds quickly.

Bitty pats Chowder arm. “I'll see what I can do.”

***

Later that day, Bitty goes in search of the other frogs. Luckily, Nursey is never too hard to find; all anyone needs to do is follow the twang of a strumming guitar.

The music leads Bitty to the stern side of the ship, near the helm. Sure enough, Nursey is there, perched on the handrail, plucking away at the guitar strings. The surprising part is that Dex is also there, poring over a map set up on an empty cask piled high with navigation instruments. His back is turned to Nursey, but his face is getting progressively redder.

Nursey sings.

“ _What shall we do with the drunken sailor? What shall we do with the drunken sailor? What shall we do with the drunken sailor early in the morning?”_

Dex snaps, just as Bitty creeps onto the raised platform by the stern. “Can you shut the fuck up, Nursey?” Dex yells, whipping around to face him. “Some of us are trying to actually get stuff done.”

“Bro, you need to chill. It's just a song.”

“I'm trying to do some complicated navigation, but I can't concentrate with you playing your stupid guitar right there,” he fumes.

“Why do you have to be so uptight all the time?” Nursey sneers.

Dex groans. “Because unlike you, I give a shit about not ending up dead in the Bermuda Triangle. You're such a fucking moron sometimes.”

“And you're a prick, Poindexter.”

“You're lucky I haven't pushed you overboard, you—”

“Okay!” Bitty interrupts. “Why don't we all calm down and take a break?”

He manages to convince Nursey to come with him to the other side of the ship and talks to him about the friction between him and Dex. It goes nowhere. Later that evening, he pulls Dex aside and tries to do the same thing, with similarly unsuccessful results.

He can't really blame them though. The ongoing proximity is getting to all of them, especially the newer guys who aren't used to spending months at a time on a ship. It all points to one thing...

He brings it up with Jack the next morning. “Captain, I think we have a morale problem on our hands.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asks. “The crew is fine.”

“Well, sort of...” Bitty trails off. “But I know you've heard the frogs bickering, and it's starting to affect the rest of the crew. And I even heard that Ransom snapped at Holster…”

Bitty crosses his arms. “These men need shore leave, and you know it.”

Jack groans, then rubs a hand through his hair. “Ugh, you're right.” He looks grumpy, but resigned. “Tell the men to raise the sails. We’re setting a course for Tortuga.”

***

Bitty has heard stories of Tortuga, rumors about a pirate paradise where strumpets and scallywags are commonplace and villainous knaves walk the streets freely. The reality turns out to be very similar. Despite having been a crew member of the _Samwell_ for months and months, Bitty feels a bit scandalized by it all.

They have barely dropped anchor in the harbor when Ransom, Holster and Lardo leap off the ship and disappear into town. Bitty is about to head off himself, when Shitty catches him, slapping him cheerfully on the back. “Brah, get ready for debauchery of epic proportions tonight!”

“I'll try?” Bitty responds uncertainly. He's not sure he will survive the carousing the guys have planned. A few days earlier, he saw Ransom and Holster working on multiple alcohol-related charts during watch, and when Lardo saw them, she didn't discipline them, she just chirped them until they doubled their efforts. It's easily going to be the biggest party he's ever attended. He's excited but also terrified.

“You'll be fine, Bits,” Shitty assures him. “And since I know you're off to find a kitchen anyway, can you bring some of those ‘swawesome pies?”

Bitty laughs. “Y'all do not need to worry, there will be plenty of pies. I just need to find a willing kitchen to commandeer for a while.”

It only takes him a couple hours before he is able to charm his way into an innkeeper’s kitchen. He then enlists the frogs to help him carry all of the necessary baking supplies back from the general store, as well as the ingredients for something that Shitty calls “tub juice.”

Once he's settled, he sends the frogs off to find Shitty and gets to work.

Rolling out the first crust feels like coming home.

Before he knows it, he's so absorbed in the process of chopping, measuring and rolling that the time flies by and the number of pies cooling on the table continues to grow.

He's so engrossed that he doesn't even notice when someone comes in behind him. Bitty is singing to himself, in the middle of shaping a crust, when a voice startles him.

“I should have known I would find you here, Bittle.”

“Jack!” Bitty cries, a cloud of flour rising around his head. “What are you doing here? Shitty said you never left the ship during shore leave. He made it seem like you were allergic to the land or something.”

“Huh,” Jack says. “I do sometimes when I have business to attend to.”  He walks along the long central table examining the cooling pies. “I can't believe you made all of these.”

Bitty smiles proudly. “Each one is a different flavor.

Jack walks over and leans over Bitty where he's working. “What are you making now?”

“Well,” Bitty explains, “this here is the crust for my Moo Maw’s famous maple sugar-crusted apple pie. The store just happened to have maple syrup from the Canadian colonies, which I know is more expensive than the local molasses, but I couldn't resist. We used to get it back home from the fur trappers heading down to Louisiana.”

Jack smiles. “I love maple syrup. My father was actually born in _Québec_ , so my favorite treat as a child was putting maple sugar on my breakfast.” He picks up the jug wistfully, “My mother would stock up every time we got up that far north.”

“You miss them, don't you?”

Jack fidgets with the cork in the bottle, then sets it down gently, looking away towards the window. “Yes,” he admits.

The confession feels especially poignant, given how little Jack has ever disclosed about his past. Jack exhales, clearly putting in effort to maintain his breathing. Bitty is about to tell him to relax, and maybe to head back to the ship where he’s more comfortable when Jack continues.

“When I was a kid, the only thing I wanted was my own ship, but now…” He trails off, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Now I would give anything to sail with them again.”

Bitty doesn't know how to respond, at least not in words. He reaches over for an apple and swiftly chops it into slices. He takes a slice and dips both sides in the nearby bowl of maple sugar, then hands it to the captain. “Here, try this.”

“Thanks, Bittle.” Jack takes a bite and hums in pleasure. He finishes the apple slice, licking the excess sugar off his fingers. Bitty is mesmerized. However, he quickly turns back to the crust before Jack catches him staring.

“It tastes just like I remember.”

Bitty laughs nervously. “Well if you liked that, you're gonna love the pie.”

Jack leans against the table. “I bet. It already smells great in here.”

Bitty sniffs the air. “Oh blimey, that reminds me!” He shoves a rolling pin into Jack’s hands. “You keep rolling while I get that pie out of the oven.”

“Uh, are you sure that's a good—”

“Yes, yes, you'll be fine,” Bitty assures while he rushes to remove the pie, beaming at the perfectly golden brown crust. He sets it aside and puts in a batch of hardtack biscuits.

When he comes back, Jack is frowning at the dough, rolling it out warily. He looks completely out of place.

“You're a natural,” Bitty teases.

“I don't know about that,” Jack responds. As self-assured and comfortable as he seems on a ship with a sword in his hand, he looks the opposite here in the kitchen.

Bitty takes pity on him and nudges him aside. He quickly slices the dough into strips, then demonstrates his lattice technique. “Just do it like this.” He shows Jack how to weave the strips together, then steps aside to finish chopping up the apples.

He expects Jack to make his excuses and politely disappear as fast as he can, but he seems determined to help Bitty finish the pie. After a few minutes, he even seems to enjoy it.

“So, Captain,” Bitty drawls, “what sort of business did you have with the delightful denizens of Tortuga? Donating to the needy? Building a church?

Jack chuckles, “Not this time. I met up with some people who claim to have information about the whereabouts of the Cup.”

“Oh!” Bitty brightens. “Did you find out anything good?”

“I got a few good leads, I think. The problem is that everyone has a completely different rumor, so you have to weed out the promising ones from the rubbish.”

“That sounds challenging,” Bitty responds. “What do you think you will—”

He turns towards the oven, holding a sack of flour, at the same time Jack turns toward him with a pie. They stop just short of colliding with each other.  

“Oh sorry—”

“Pardon me—”

Bitty’s eyes, wide with shock, are directly in line with the open collar of Jack’s shirt. He knows he should turn around, walk around the other direction to get to the oven, but the smell of him is making it hard to concentrate.

“So are you going to move, Bittle?” Jack finally asks after a few awkward shuffles.

Bitty blushes, but chirps back, “Excuse you, Mr. Zimmermann. You may be captain on the ship, but in my kitchen—”

“ _Your_ kitchen?”

“Fine, _this_ kitchen, it's up to you to move your big – um.”

Jack smirks. “My big...?”

“Oh hush.” He flicks some flour at Jack’s face, hoping it will distract him from the bright red in his cheeks. “Weren’t you telling me all about your Cup rumors?”

They sidestep past each other, and Bitty starts shaping more ship’s biscuits while Jack cuts more strips of dough for the crust. All the while they discuss the different stories Jack’s picked up in his travels. Apparently there have been Cup sightings everywhere from Boston to the Barbary Coast.

Bitty tries to listen, he really does, but a beam of soft afternoon sunlight is streaming through the window, hitting Jack just so. It reflects off his hair, highlighting his sharp cheekbones. Jack is actually smiling, which has been rare in itself lately, and he still has some flour in his hair and on his chin.

Bitty is undone. The mere sight of Jack catapults hundreds of tiny, barely-there observations from the back of his mind to the forefront of his consciousness and he knows. He's in love with this boy.

The realization cuts in the sweet, painful way that the truth often does, the pleasant buzz in his stomach intertwined with the instantaneous dread that this _cannot happen_. He wants to run away; he wants to climb into Jack’s space and never leave.

He suddenly can't breathe and has to excuse himself, making up a lie about too much flour in his lungs so he can step outside. He buries his face in his hands and wonders how he could have allowed himself to do this again.

***

Everything gets a little easier that evening once Shitty hands him a tankard of tub juice. It turns out that tub juice is a grog-like mixture of beer, juices, sugar and an staggering amount of rum, a dangerous combination due to its high alcohol content and delicious taste. After a cup, it’s hard to imagine anything in his life being a tragic ordeal, let alone falling for his captain.

That afternoon, when Bitty walked back into the kitchen, Jack had finished the pie crust, so he was able to shoo him off without any trouble. Once he was gone, Bitty was able to start another pie – actually, three pies – and think through the situation. The conclusion he came to was nothing had to change. Jack was still his captain, his sparring partner and, increasingly, his friend. Bitty could set aside his romantic feelings for the sake of protecting a burgeoning relationship with the man who, despite their tumultuous beginning, gave him a chance to start over. It wouldn't be easy, but it also wouldn't be the first time Bitty’s had to hide his feelings. He could handle it.

And yeah, it didn't hurt to have some alcoholic debauchery to look forward to.

The tavern is packed with an interesting mélange of pirates, prostitutes and other ne’er-do-wells, with Lardo, Ransom and Holster at the epicenter of it all. Shitty is roaming around the room, filling up every empty tankard that he sees.  The warm, rich candlelight paints the grungy taproom with a velvety glow and glints off of the many gold earrings, pendants and teeth.

The raucous singing is only drowned out by the intermittent shouting from the poker tables in the back, and there's a scandalous amount of nudity, but by far the most shocking part of it all is when Bitty spots his captain slipping inside and hovering against a wall. Despite everything, an excited jolt rushes through Bitty when he sees him, and he crisscrosses his way through the crowd toward Jack.

“I didn't expect to find you here,” he says when he reaches him.

“Yeah, well, Shitty is always getting on my case for not having enough fun.” He shrugs. “I do have fun, but he said raiding ships doesn't count.”

Bitty laughs warmly, louder than usual, although he's not sure if that is Jack’s influence or the tub juice.

“Still, it’s good for the men to see you here,” Bitty says. “It builds morale and camaraderie.”

“At the very least, I’m here in case something goes wrong. Things always get a little bit out of control in Tortuga. I think Ransom and Holster invited the entire island and every seadog within 20 leagues.”

Bitty listens raptly as Jack tells stories about their previous visits to Tortuga.

“The last time we were here, the Royal Navy crashed the party.  It was total chaos. A couple of officers kicked in the door.”

Bitty gasps. “Oh no!”

“Aye, I knocked them out and had to drag them both out of the tavern.”

“All by yourself?”

“Well, yeah.” As the story goes on, he gets more and more animated. “And then a bunch of them turned up out of nowhere. It must have been their whole crew. They streamed in and were beating down every pirate they could get their hands on. I wasn’t even thinking, I just took out my cutlass and defended my crew. By the end of it, they were all either dead or had retreated back to their ship.”

“That must have been so scary.”

“It wasn’t that bad… Although apparently I stabbed an admiral. The Royal Navy has been after me ever since. They’ll do anything to sink the _Samwell_ and get rid of us.”

As he talks, Jack continues to lean further into Bitty’s space, turning into the attention like a sunflower. Bitty wants to keep his distance, but he is no better, closing the distance between them inch by inch.

They don't notice when the door of the tavern slams open, but they can't help but be pulled out of the moment when the music screeches to a halt. The crowd parts as an imposing pirate swaggers into the room. He is wearing an ornate red knee-length coat, and a tricorn hat rests jauntily on his head. He walks right up to Jack and smirks.

“Jack Zimmermann carousing at a tavern? Blow me down!”

Jack prickles. “Kent.”

“Zimms. Didja miss me?”

Bitty looks on in awe as he realizes that he's looking at Cutthroat Kent Parson, arguably the most notorious pirate sailing the seas – and apparently a friend of Jack’s.

“Oy! Is that Cutthroat Kent? He owes me ten doubloons!” someone shouts, and suddenly, there is as mob of people surrounding the young captain, vying for his attention. Even Bitty is somewhat curious, squeezing his way through the crowd for a closer look.

It's not until he turns to talk to Jack that he realizes that he's nowhere to be found.

***

Cutthroat Kent turns out to be the life of the party, even when Lardo fleeces him for everything he has playing Liar’s Dice. Eventually Kent disappears too, but not before asking Bitty where Jack went. Bitty promises to find him for Parson, but the horde of people has only grown since his arrival. He weaves his way through the dancing, drinking pirates, becoming increasingly distressed.

Bitty finds Shitty sitting on the bar, wearing an eyepatch and drinking from a large jug.

“Shitty, have you seen Jack?” he asks.

“Ahh, dammit.” He flips up the eye patch, tossing it across the room. “Poor guy probably didn’t want to get caught in the fracas that Cutthroat Kent Parson started. I would bet he’s back on the ship.”

“Oh, I—” Bitty looks around at the mass of people in the bar. “Do you think he will come back? Cutthroat Kent said that he stopped on the island just to see Jack before he sets sail.”

Shitty sighs, brushing his long hair out of his face. “Listen, Bits… You should know. Jack can get pretty jealous, okay? The last time Parson found Jack... yeah, it was after he had taken down the largest ring of privateers in the Caribbean, but it's not like he was waving the Calder jewels under his nose.” He sets down the jug, shaking his head. “Parson’s a modest bro. And the way Jack acted... _brah_.” Shitty turns and meets Bitty’s eyes. “It freaked me out! It was kinda like how Jack used to treat you.”

Bitty shudders. He still remembers what it was like before he won over the captain, and if Jack directed that at Parson and he _still_ came to see him, there must be significant history between the two of them.

Shitty continues, “And I fucking hate saying it, so that’s between you and me, all right?”

Bitty places his hand over his heart. “Pirate’s honor. I won’t say a thing.” He goes to leave, then turns back to Shitty. He was probably right when he said that Jack left to return to the ship, but it won’t hurt to ask... “If you see Jack, tell him to come find me, okay?”

“Sure, Bits.”

Bitty nods, then makes his way back out through the throng.

***

The docks are dark as Bitty creeps out toward the _Samwell_. The music from the tavern lingers in the background, just barely louder than the slosh of the waves against the boats. Bitty heads up the ramp, holding the maple-sugar crusted pie carefully in his arms. It's a miracle that it remained untouched the way Shitty had been systematically digging into them all. However, if what Shitty said was true, then Jack will probably appreciate a little comfort food after a run in with Parson.

The ship is quiet, the only light coming from behind the curtains of the captain’s window. Bitty heads over and is about to knock when he hears voices.

“...Have you considered the idea that you'll never find them?”

“Of course I have! I think about that every damn day.”

“So, why do you keep moping about it?”

“ _Crisse_ , they're my parents, Parse! Don't you want to know what happened to them? They were practically your parents too.”

“Yes, and I appreciate what they did for me, but even if they were alive, they wouldn't want to see you sailing in circles looking for them.”

“That's why I'm searching for the Stanley Cup.”

Someone – Parson presumably – huffs out a joyless laugh. “Finding the Cup is great, but you can't expect it to solve all your problems. I would know.”

“Why don’t you rub it in some more?”

There's a short pause in the conversation. Bitty knows he should leave, but for some reason his feet remain planted on the spot. He's confused. Shitty had made it seem like no one could find the Stanley Cup, but if he was hearing this right, not only had Kent found it, but Jack knows about it.

Kent continues, “Why won't you join me on the _Ace_? It's what we always talked about.”

“I... I know, but…”

There’s more silence. Bitty strains to hear what's going on. When Jack speaks again, it's much softer, barely audible behind the wooden door.

“Kenny… I can’t do this.”

“Jack, come on.”

“No, I—” Jack whispers, but a moment later, he’s shouting. “Kenny—”

“Zimms!” Parse interrupts. “Just fucking stop thinking for once and listen to me. Join me on board my ship, then you can be done with this shitty crew. You and me—”

“Get out,” Jack barks.

“Jack.” He sounds exasperated.

“You can’t—” Jack roars. He takes a second, and when he begins again, his voice is controlled, a monotone. “You don’t come on my ship unannounced—”

“Because you shut me out!”

“—And corner me in my cabin—” His volume continues to rise.

“I’m trying to help!” Parson shouts over him.

“—And expect me to do whatever you want—”

“Fuck, Jack!” It’s so loud that even Bitty jumps. Then Kent continues, “What do you want me to say? That I miss you? I miss you, okay?” Then in a whisper, “...I miss you.”

Jack doesn’t respond right away, but then he replies stonily, “You always say that.”

Parse laughs bitterly. “You're something else, Zimms. Are you scared everyone else is going to find out how badly you fucked up when you got your hands on the Cup? You think finding it again is going to make up for it? Well it’s not. And you know what else? You’re never going to find the Cup, because you’re only a successful pirate because when ships see your flag, they think it’s Bad Bob sailing towards them. But I guess it doesn’t even matter because he’s probably dead anyway—”

Jack responds, voice shaking with anger. “G- Get out of my room.”

“Fine. Shut me out again,” says Kent.

“And stay away from my crew.”

“Why? Afraid I’ll tell them something?”

“Leave, Parse.” Jack’s voice booms, and between that and the sudden opening of the cabin door, Bitty jumps, fumbling the pie in his hands. He manages to catch it, but stumbles to the floor in the process, which is how he ends up kneeling in front of the two captains. Kent looks down in disgust, while Jack stands behind him, shaking with a combination of fury and anxiety.

Kent steps around Bitty, still frozen in shock on the floor, but stops short of leaving, turning back to face them. “You should reconsider, Zimms. This is your last chance to ditch this shitty boat and join my crew.”

Jack glares, but doesn’t answer, so Kent puts his hand in his coat pocket and pulls something out. From what Bitty can tell, it’s a compass. As he flips it in his hand, Jack’s eyes widen in shock. “Where did you get that?”

Kent smirks. “Bad Bob gave it to me, the day we shipwrecked.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jack snaps.

“Why not?” Kent throws back at him. “Maybe he wanted to bring us back together. How could he have known you would have been so careless with the Stanley Cup?”

Bitty is even more confused now, but Parson keeps talking. “You don’t want to leave your precious crew?” he says, looking right at Bitty. “Fine. But I’m taking the compass with me. By the time your miserable lot of lubbers sobers up and sets sail, I’ll be long gone and that much closer to the Cup, while you’re here sailing in circles with a bunch of misfits.”

He turns away, pulling his tricorn hat firmly onto his head.

“Good luck with this _fine vessel,_ ” he says bitingly. “I’m sure you’re making your dad proud.”

He storms off the ship and into the night. Bitty watches, still huddled on the floor, until he can no longer see Cutthroat Kent. Finally he stands and turns to Jack, to ask him… what exactly, he’s not sure. He has so many questions. What was so special about that compass? How did Parson know Jack’s father? Did Jack really at one point have the Stanley Cup?

Before he can get a word out, however, Jack retreats into his cabin, shaking, and slams the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After that intense chapter, you may need some levity, so sing along with Nursey's favorite sea shanty [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z4-ytFOS9TI)!
> 
> As always, whether it's your pirate headcanons or honest critiques, I love and greatly appreciate your feedback!


	4. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my awesome betas and to all of you reading this. I know following a WIP is an exercise in trust, and it means a lot to me.

Few people know how the story began, how a young man from Québec stole a ship and quickly became the most fearsome pirate on the seven seas. Fewer people still know the truth of what came after. Even so, the stories about Bad Bob Zimmermann spread like wildfire. The details were always different: sometimes he was seven feet tall; sometimes he had claws or hooks for hands; sometimes his ship could sail against the wind.

The only consistent truth was that even the bravest sailors quaked in their boots when they saw _L’Habitant_ on the horizon.

That was certainly the case for Lord Stanley.

The two things that surprised him most were how quickly Bad Bob was able to take control of his ship, and how impossibly young he was to already have achieved such notoriety.

He was not surprised, however, that he was here. The transatlantic passage of the Stanley treasure and its crown jewel, the Stanley Cup, was widely known by respectable and dishonorable seafarers alike, but he thought he had taken every precaution.

Even with all of their protections and preparations, they still managed to underestimate Captain Bad Bob Zimmermann.

Lord Stanley was a rich man, but not a proud man, which became apparent as he groveled on his knees at the feet of the fearsome pirate. He begged him to spare his life, and if he did, he would share his most valuable secret: the secret of the Cup.

Bob was a practical man – and he was probably going to spare his life anyway – so he obliged.

Lord Stanley explained.

The Stanley Cup was bestowed with magical properties.

Anyone who hoisted the Cup above their head was granted a single wish, whatever they wished for as they held it aloft. Afterwards, the Cup disappeared only to reappear in another location. No one had figured out whether there was a pattern to where it ended up. For the most part it seemed random, but rarely had an unworthy party discovered it.

Bob was intrigued. If the story was false, he still left the ship with the valuable prize, but if it was true, he gained something far more interesting.

Later, as he lifted the Cup above his head on the deck of _L’Habitant_ , in front of his cheering crew, he silently wished for the ability to always find the Cup, no matter where it disappeared to. One wish could change his life, but wasn't a lifetime of wishes even better?

The next morning, he awoke to find that the Cup had indeed vanished from the locked cabinet in his cabin. However, in its place rested a small silver compass.

***

Bad Bob sailed the seas, guided by a strange compass that didn't point north. All the while, he thought about what he would wish for when he finally hoisted the Cup again.

He followed the compass for over a year until he finally found its hiding spot. This time, he did not make his wish right away. He already had everything he thought he ever wanted: a ship, a fortune, a notorious reputation. He could wish for more – more ships, more treasure, more infamy – but he could hardly see the point. He could wish to defy the laws of physics: to fly, to breathe fire, to walk on water.

However, Bob was a practical man.

Eventually he made his wish. He wished for a partner, someone he could trust with all the things he valued. He expected to find someone who would be a steadfast quartermaster and trusted advisor.

What he found was Alicia.

Three days after Bob made his wish, _L’Habitant_ weighed anchor in the Boston harbor, and there she was.

Unlike most women trying to be sailors, she did not try to hide her gender. She stood unabashed on the dock, long, golden hair flowing freely in the breeze. She was as skilled with an astrolabe as she was with a ledger, immediately winning Bob over with her wit and knowledge. He learned later that she had been trained in the way of the sword by a samurai.

He knew he could never do better for a smart, accomplished first mate, but he never expected to fall in love.

They sailed together, their strengths and skills in perfect balance and harmony. With Alicia by his side, Bad Bob found the Cup again in half the time.

However, he was again at a loss for what to wish for. He was already happier than he had ever been. He decided instead to share the secret and share the wish, watching as Alicia lifted the Cup above her head.

He never asked her what she wished for, and she never told him, but nine months later, Jack was born.

***

Jack was born in midsummer with the same bright blue eyes as his mother. It was a strange thing for a pirate crew to raise a baby, but they took a surprising amount of pride in taking care of the boy. During the day the men traded off carrying him, singing him sea shanties and telling him tales of their pirate adventures. At night he was lulled to sleep by the sound of the waves.

As soon as he was old enough to carry a wooden training sword he began learning French fencing techniques from his father and Japanese martial arts from his mother. As soon as he was old enough to carry a pistol, he began learning marksmanship. He was a serious, precocious child, observing each job on the ship with the intensity of someone much older. However, he still found time to play, climbing the rigging like a monkey and sliding daringly down the sails.

Bob and Alicia made it a priority to show their son as much of the world as possible. By the time Jack was 10 years old, he had been to every port in the Atlantic.

They spent the entire year Jack turned 12 sailing around the Cape of Good Hope to the Far East. They sailed along the coast of Africa, marveled over the flora and fauna of Madagascar, sampled the spices from India and the tea from China. They made it all the way to Japan, where Jack agreed to a rare on-land visit with his mother to acquire a real samurai sword.

All the while, they never stopped pirating. Bob led the crew of _L’Habitant_ as they plundered ships from all corners of the globe. With each new conquest, the rumors multiplied and his notoriety grew.

Every raid, Jack watched from his father’s cabin, forbidden to assist with the attacks on enemy ships until he was older. He prayed for the day when he had his own ship and patiently waited until he could join the fray.

***

The summer when Jack turned 15, three major changes occurred that altered his life forever.

The first is that he grew a foot in just over a month, suddenly more of a man than a boy.

The second is that Bob allowed him to partake in his first raid. It was an easy affair taking down a practically unarmed merchant ship carrying a small load of household goods to the American colonies. Jack took to battle like a fish to water, disarming the ship’s captain and most of the crew in just a few minutes. Bob beamed with pride for weeks.

The third thing is that _L’Habitant_ acquired a new cabin boy, a slight young man, approximately Jack’s age.

Kent Parson was industrious, bright and charming. He and Jack bonded almost immediately. The two boys spent every free minute sparring and swordfighting. Kent possessed a natural athleticism and a cerebral fighting style that both challenged and complemented Jack’s abilities.

They were inseparable and – when they didn't have swords in their hands – could often be seen with their heads bowed together, chattering endlessly. Jack told stories of past adventures, both his own and those from before he was born. Kent shared visions of the future, painting pictures of the heights of glory he and Jack would achieve together. Jack hung on his every word.

Bob and Alicia watched them and felt relieved. Though they never regretted raising their son on _L’Habitant_ , they were always aware of how isolated and lonely it must have been for him. Jack never wanted for love and affection from his parents and the crew that helped raise him, but he never had a peer, a friend his own age. They watched him flourish alongside Kent as the bond between them strengthened and grew.

The first time Jack and Kent went to battle together was a sight to behold. They moved together like two halves of the same person, anticipating each other’s every movement, taking down anyone who got in their way. Despite only leaving three survivors, the rumors and tales of the young duo spread swiftly throughout the Caribbean.

***

Jack was 16 years old the first time he was mistaken for Bad Bob. It caught him so off-guard that he froze on the spot, almost getting a cutlass through the stomach for his lapse of focus. It probably should have made him proud, but instead it planted a seed of anxiety, for in his mind there was no way he could live up to his father’s legacy. Every time it happened after that, his anxiety grew a little more, spreading further into all of the dark places in his head. It might have been manageable, except for the undeniable fact that he was starting to look more and more like his father.

***

When Jack was 18 years old, Bob and Alicia made an important decision. For many years, they had locked away the silver compass, choosing a long time ago to teach their son to rely on skill, strength and loyalty, not magic and wishes. Chasing the Cup was no way to live a satisfied life. However Jack was becoming a man, and they loved him and wanted to give him a gift.

Inside the captain’s cabin one night, Bob opened the locked cabinet and took out the small silver compass, wiping away a layer of dust. Alicia then opened the door to see Jack and Kent alone on the deck. It wasn't an abnormal sight. The two boys were usually the last ones to go to bed, sitting side by side, practically in each other’s lap, whispering late into the night.

Alicia watched them fondly before calling out to Jack to join them in the cabin.

There they sat him down and began telling him the stories. Most of them were familiar to Jack from the tales he remembered from his childhood. The only difference was that this time his parents told him they were all true. The legend the Stanley Cup and the power it possessed was not a myth, but a reality.

Jack listened solemnly as his parents placed the compass in his hand and told him that now it was his turn to join the search. When they found it, the Cup would be his to raise above his head and wish for whatever he wanted.

After they finished, Jack swore that he would not waste the opportunity, and he would take the secret to his grave.

However, Bob and Alicia knew their son well. Jack was a practical young man. He would almost surely wish for a ship of his own, so that he could set out in the world and make a name for himself.

They also knew that he viewed the Parson boy as an extension of himself. They assured Jack that he could tell Kent – but only Kent – about the true worth of the Cup, if only because they knew that anything Jack knew Kent would soon find out.

***

Once they began their pursuit, the search for the Cup lasted only a few months. Alicia observed proudly as Jack threw himself into course-plotting and navigation, discovering the treasure in record time due in large part to his concentration and drive.

However, the weeks passed after they found it and Jack had yet to make his wish. Every day, Jack and Kent went into the captain’s cabin and gazed at the bright silver Cup, and every day Kent tried to convince Jack to come to a decision and make his wish. Jack insisted that he had yet to make up his mind and refused to do so until he was absolutely certain.

In truth, he knew that everyone expected him to wish for his own ship, and in his heart, he knew it was what he wanted. Yet, the overwhelming fear and doubt that he would fail as a captain and be a disgraceful pirate stopped him. He promised himself that he would make his wish the next day, until the next day came and he promised to do it the day after.

He kept doing it, putting it off for one more day, and then one more. He thought he would have all the time in the world.

He didn’t.

***

The only warning they got about the hurricane on their heels was a deep red morning sky.

No man had ever defeated Bad Bob Zimmermann. However, Mother Nature was about to succeed where every man had failed.

By late afternoon the rain was pounding, and the wind was ripping at the sails. By nightfall, the waves had grown to be as tall as _L’Habitant_ itself. All hands were on deck, struggling and fighting to keep the ship afloat. The ship lurched like a rocking horse, and the men scrambled to simply remain standing.

The crack of the mast could not be heard over the roar of the storm, so they had no warning. It collapsed across the deck, destroying everything and everyone in its path. The ship began taking on water at a rapid pace as the storm raged.

Bad Bob watched in horror, unable to do anything to stop the loss of his ship, his crew, his family. Although he could barely see through the sheets of water, he managed to find and grab Jack and Kent, pulling them into his cabin.

Bob thrust the Stanley Cup into Jack’s hands and told him to protect it, to keep it safe and use it when the time is right. He then turned to Kent, but was interrupted by a woman’s – Alicia’s – scream.

Jack bolted outside to find his mother just as _L’Habitant_ was caught in a monster swell. The entire ship was pulled upward until it was practically vertical in the water. Jack lost his footing, freefalling toward the bow, still clutching the Stanley Cup. As he fell, the ship was swept out from under him. He fell straight into the water, just as the ship flipped and capsized over him.

***

Few people know what became _L’Habitant_ and its crew, and even fewer knew what happened to Alicia and Bad Bob Zimmermann. However, the irrefutable fact was that Jack Zimmermann managed to survive.

He should have died after falling straight into the seething sea in a violent storm. His water-logged clothes and boots dragged him down into the depths as his hands clung to the Cup above his head. He struggled to reach the surface, even as his lungs filled with water as his vision filled with spots. His last thought as he began losing consciousness was, _Please don’t let me die here._

Suddenly, he felt a tugging in his arms. The Stanley Cup, despite being made of solid metal, began to float upward. Somehow, Jack managed to hold on as the Cup lifted him back up to the surface, bobbing on top of the waves. He clung to it as the storm violently scattered the wreckage of _L’Habitant_ around him. He fell in and out of consciousness, but still he did not let go.

He awoke the next morning on an unknown beach, muscles aching, his throat sore from swallowing seawater. The Stanley Cup was nowhere to be found.

He realized that he had been saved by his Cup wish, that when he’d begged not to die the Cup had floated to the surface and kept him from drowning.

The thought made his stomach drop in devastating guilt. The Cup gave him the power to save everyone he had ever loved, and in his panic, he had only saved himself.

***

Left with nothing, the only home he ever knew destroyed forever, Jack fell back on what he knew best. He joined a passing pirate crew as a deckhand, quickly building a good reputation for himself and working his way up.

When he was 20 years old, he got a job as quartermaster on the _Samwell_ , and for the first time since he was on _L’Habitant_ , he felt a sense of belonging. Although he’d lost everyone he ever loved, finally, for the first time since the shipwreck, he didn’t feel alone.

When Captain Johnson left and Jack was voted captain, he saw an opportunity. With the support of every man on the _Samwell_ behind him, he vowed to do whatever it took to find out what happened to his former crew. In the meantime, he listened to every rumor, every story, hoping more than anything that one day he would find his parents, the Stanley Cup and his redemption.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long hiatus, folks! I swear to you, this story has NOT been abandoned - far from it! I tend to be slow and a bit of a coral reef when it comes to my writing process even in the best of times, then life happened and bulldozed my entire routine. So for the time being, slow and steady sails the ship (pun intended)!
> 
> As always, infinite props to [BakedHam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BakedHam/pseuds/BakedHam) and [BaegentWashington](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanTheFreewoodGuy/pseuds/BaegentWashington) for holding my hand and dealing with my insane ramblings.

The sailors’ quarters are all but empty when Bitty wakes up, since most of the men spent the night in Tortuga. Given their alcohol consumption and overall debauchery, he wouldn't be surprised to find half the crew still passed out in the tavern from the night before.

He braves the painfully bright sunshine on deck, questioning every decision he made last night, but in particular the many times he allowed Shitty to refill his tankard with tub juice.

He glances at the captain’s cabin and it all comes back to him.

Bitty has seen Jack at his best, and he's seen Jack at his scariest, but never had he seen him so exposed. There are so many mysteries to untangle from the conversation he overheard between Jack and Kent Parson, but there is one matter that Bitty would especially like to clear up.

The night before, after Jack had slammed the door of his cabin in his face, Bitty had remained frozen on the spot in shock. Eventually, he nervously retreated back to his bunk, but not before leaving the maple sugar-crusted apple pie right in front of the door for Jack to find.

The pie is gone now, and Bitty can only hope that it ended up with Jack. Otherwise, either the seagulls or one of his drunk crewmates got quite the treat upon arriving home.

Bitty feels terrible, but restless, and spends the first half of the day cleaning and making the routine repairs on the _Samwell_ that they have been putting off for weeks. He passes the afternoon in the kitchen finishing off the hardtack biscuits and making some savory pies for his queasy, hungover crewmates.

That night, he takes a plate to the captain, who, to his knowledge, hasn't left his cabin all day.

He rearranges the two plates in his hand and knocks on the door.

“Captain?”

For a long time, he is met with only silence. He debates whether to knock again or cut his losses when Jack pulls open the door.

“Bittle.”

Jack doesn't look surprised, but he also doesn't look particularly excited to see him either.

“I brought you some dinner,” he says, trying to control his heart rate as he looks Jack directly in the eye. “I wasn't sure if you'd eaten.” He holds the plate out to Jack, who takes it carefully.

“Thank you.”

“It's chicken pot pie,” Bitty adds.

Jack stares at the plate. “Did you make it?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, good,” he mutters, then adds, “I hope you stole the plate.”

Bitty chuckles. “If you aren't planning to bring it back, then I did.”

Jack shakes his head. He's not smiling, but his eyes look amused. “Have you learned nothing since becoming a pirate? Anything not bolted down is fair game.”

Bitty raises his eyebrows. “It's just a plate.”

“Yes, but it's the principle of the matter. You should have taken more, Bittle.”

“Okay, whatever you say, Captain,” he responds, rolling his eyes

He starts turning to leave when Jack asks, “Are you eating?”

Bitty holds up the second plate. “I figured I would eat in the galley while I'm making space for the new supplies.”

“Oh. Well you could eat here with me,” Jack suggests. “If you want to.”

Bitty looks at Jack, trying to see if he means it as a joke, or maybe he is just trying to be polite. However, he looks sincere, so Bitty agrees and follows Jack inside the cabin.

Although he's been in the captain’s cabin before, this is the first time Bitty has had a chance to really look around. There's not much by means of decoration, just a few maps and a couple decorative swords, impractical for use. In the corner there's a large cot – probably big enough for two, Bitty’s traitorous brain supplies – and a mahogany desk that Jack hastily clears off for them to set down their plates.

They eat in companionable silence as the awkward tension between them eases away.

“This is good, Bittle,” Jack comments between bites. “It's too bad you can't cook like this on the ship normally, eh?”

“Once they figure out how to put a hot stove on a wooden ship without burning a hole in the middle, y'all won't be able to stop me. Until then, it's salted meat and the ongoing fight against scurvy.”

Jack looks up thoughtfully, gesturing with his fork. “You know, now that you mention it, I can't remember any cases of scurvy since you joined the crew.”

Bitty smirks. “It's because I put lime juice in the rum. We might run out of many things, but I think Shitty would flip his shit before letting us run out of rum.”

Jack smiles for the first time all night. “Good work, Bittle.”

“Thank you, Captain. I take my job as galley manager very seriously. No scurvy and no bugs,” he says triumphantly, taking a large bite of his supper.

Eventually, the chatter dies down comfortably as they both finish their food. Once he’s done, Bitty is left trying to figure out if he should offer to leave or wait until he gets kicked out. He’s never spent this long in the captain’s cabin before, so he’s not sure what the precedent is for hospitality. Additionally, he is struggling with the conflicting feelings of wanting to be near Jack as much as possible, and those of being overwhelmed, like his skin is too tight for his body just from being in his presence. He’s about to say something, maybe to ask if it’s better for him to stay or go when Jack stands up, sliding his chair back loudly.

He goes to a shelf in the corner and brings over the pie Bitty left for him the night before – at least, three quarters of it. A large section is missing and presumably eaten.

Jack sets the pie on the table. “I guess I have you to thank for this. Would you like some? It's delicious, but it's too much for me to finish on my own.”

Bitty shrugs, going for nonchalant, but he's secretly pleased. “It's yours to do with as you please. You helped make it after all,” he chirps.

Jack chuckles. “I didn't really do anything. And I definitely didn't make it taste this good.”

Bitty has to hold in a laugh as Jack daintily cuts them both a slice with a large jagged dagger from his belt.

They both dig into the slices of pie, and Jack is clearly enjoying it. Bitty, however, picks at the crust. He still feels a bit strange about the previous night, and he wants to make sure that Jack doesn’t hate him.

“Um, Captain…” Bitty trails off. He wants to acknowledge what he saw last night, but he doesn't want to upset Jack. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but I felt that last night might not have been, well… very ‘swawesome for you.”

Jack sighs. He doesn't seem angry at Bitty for bringing it up, which is good, but he does seem glum.

“Thanks, Bittle, but it’s fine. Kent and I both owe each other a lot of apologies.” He fidgets with the plate. “I’m not proud of—” he cuts himself off, takes a deep breath and starts again. “He and I, we’ve had our differences.”

There’s a lot left unsaid, and Bitty wants so badly to know everything, to understand how Jack and Cutthroat Kent could be so close and yet so hostile, but he also knows how hard some things are to discuss. “I didn’t mean to pry,” he says apologetically. “It’s just that you just seemed a little tense.”

“I appreciate the concern. I guess I get worked up, sometimes.” Jack exhales, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I was just surprised to hear that Parse had that compass.”

Bitty looks at him curiously, remembering how strongly Jack had reacted to the compass Kent brought out the night before. “It was your father’s, right? Is that why it’s important to you?”

Jack sighs. “Kind of. It did originally belonged to my father. I thought it was lost... I don't know whether it's really true that my father gave it to Kent or he just took it, but now it seems obvious that he must have had it this whole time.”

“What do you mean?”

Jack rubs the back of his neck, looking conflicted. Bitty thinks he must have said more than he meant to.

“You don't have to explain if you don't want to,” Bitty insists. “I know you don't talk much about… before.” He reaches out and sets a hand down reassuringly on Jack’s forearm. “You don't have to say anything else about it, but I hope you know you can trust me. We trust each other all the time in battle. I’ve always got your back.”

Jack doesn’t meet Bitty’s eyes. “I know. It's not that I don't trust you. It's just that I've never told anyone else about this. Not since… before.”

Bitty waits unmoving, fingers still resting carefully on Jack’s forearm. After a moment, Jack takes a deep breath and continues.

“That compass had belonged to my father since before I was born, and well… It’s not an ordinary compass. It doesn't point north,” Jack discloses.

Bitty is confused. “So it points south?”

Jack shakes his head. “It points in the direction of the Stanley Cup.”

Bitty’s eyes widen. “I don't understand.”

“I don't totally get it either. But I know that my dad used it to find the Cup before I was born, and I used it to find it when I was 18, and Parse must have used it to find the Cup after that.”

“Now that's where you lost me,” Bitty responds. “I thought no one could find the Cup. Didn't Cutthroat Kent say he was still looking for it?” Bitty catches himself, adding nervously, “Not that I was listening or anything…” He pulls his hand back and doesn't look at Jack.

“The Stanley Cup doesn't stay found for very long.”

Bitty can't help but ask, “So then it's also true what Kent said, that you found the Cup and lost it?”

Jack clenches his fists and doesn't respond for a long time. Bitty worries that he finally pushed too far and that Jack will finally kick him out of his cabin and his confidence, their tenuous steps forward in closeness washed away like footprints on the beach.

When Jack does respond, his voice uncharacteristically small. “Can you really lose something that you threw away?”

Bitty can only stare at him. Jack looks crestfallen, almost like he's forgotten Bitty is even there. Part of him wishes that he could walk around the table and put an arm around the captain’s shoulders and provide him with some form of small comfort.

Instead, he sits up straight, steeling himself, and declares, “Well, it sounds to me like we simply need to go after him.”

Jack’s head snaps upward. “Who? Kenny?”

“Aye,” Bitty replies. “If he has this compass, then he has the means to find the Cup, and it sounds like it will be a hell of a lot easier to find the most well-known pirate around – no offense to you – than it will be to find a mysterious treasure that likes to play hide and seek.”

Jack looks conflicted. “I can't force the crew to come back aboard to chase Kent, not with just two days of leave after months at sea. It’s not fair to them.”

“But they would do it, you know. They—” Bitty blushes, and corrects himself. “ _We_ would do anything for you, Captain.”

“That’s the reason why I can't ask you to do that for me.” He lowers his head. “I don't deserve it.”

Bitty gapes at Jack. “You aren't serious, right?”

Jack stares back at Bitty in genuine surprise.

Bitty continues, “Because you're such a good leader to this crew. Especially me. Even when you hated me, you tried to help me.”

“I never hated you,” Jack insists. Bitty gives him a side-eye glance. “Well, I mostly never hated you,” Jack says, correcting himself. “And I like you now.”

Bitty flushes. “You do?”

“Of course! You're great, Bittle,” he says, a small smile creeping across his face. “And I think you might be onto something by going after Parse, but I'm not going to cut shore leave to do it.”

Bitty shakes his head. “See, you're proving me right with your whole ‘good captain’ routine. Especially because I know how much you hate shore leave.”

Jack shrugs. “It hasn't been so bad this time.”

“Uh…” Bitty thinks back to the yelling, shaking and door-slamming of the night before, gaping at Jack.

He can see it on Jack’s face as he remembers too, mentally stumbling over the parts of the night he clearly wants to forget. “I mean, uh, before all that. When we were baking and stuff, that was something, eh?”

Bitty is still looking at him in disbelief.

“It was fun,” Jack amends.

“Oh!” Bitty flushes even redder, and feels a jolt rush through him. “Yes, that part wasn't so bad.”

He looks down for a moment, feeling incredibly awkward, but looks up to find Jack looking equally as awkward. Apparently they both are capable of putting their foot in their mouth.

Bitty tries to stifle an embarrassed giggle, but ends up yawning loudly. In true contagious fashion, Jack yawns too. He must take it as a sign that their night is ending, because he stands and hands Bitty the plates and the pie. “You better get some rest, Bittle. Shore leave will be over before we know it.”

Bitty smiles, and takes a small risk. “Goodnight, Jack.”

He smiles. “Goodnight, Bittle.”

***

The next few days go surprisingly well for Bitty. He spends his daytime hours baking and his evenings drinking with the boys and Lardo, after which he returns to the ship and spends time with the captain.

His fear that Jack would resent him for eavesdropping on him and knowing more about his past is erased. In fact, having Jack’s confidence only seems to bring them closer together. Bitty even manages to convince him to come with him to the market for a couple odd ingredients.

Jack on land is an interesting thing to watch. He's not comfortable by any means, but Bitty notices that when they’re out together, he seems more relaxed than usual for shore leave.

It goes like this until the sixth day of leave. Bitty spends the morning going over inventory with Lardo, both for the galley and the ship at large. They are about to take a break when Ransom and Holster rush onto the deck.

“Where's the captain?” Holster asks anxiously.

“I think he's in his cabin,” Lardo responds. “Why?”

“We spotted some men from the Royal Navy asking around about Jack and the _Samwell_ ,” says Holster. He turns to Ransom tensely. “We’re probably going to need to get out of here quick.”

Lardo nods once. “I'll go get the captain.” She hurries to Jack’s cabin.

Holster turns back to Bitty and continues. “They've been out to get us since the last time we were here.”

“Yeah,” Ransom adds. “They ambushed a kegster we were throwing and Jack stabbed one of their best admirals.”

“Yeah, Jack was telling me about that,” Bitty says. “But he seemed so casual about the whole thing. Very nonchalant.”

Ransom and Holster shake their heads. “It's just like him to play down something like this,” says Holster. “Their admiral of the fleet wants him dead. There’s not only a reward out for him. The guy also has some sort of personal vendetta. He’s not messing around”

Just then, Jack marches over to them. “Ransom, Holster, report?”

“A couple of Navy captains were inquiring about you in town, Captain. They were going around asking locals about where they could find the ship,” says Ransom.

Holster sheepishly adds, “Apparently word of our kegster got to them.”

He lowers his head, and Lardo and Ransom follow suit. “We’re sorry, Captain. It's all our fault.”

Bitty glances over at Jack, who doesn't look upset, but already seems to be formulating a plan in his head. “It's not your fault. I was the one who put a target on us to begin with. The bad news is that we’ll have to cut shore leave early after all. We’ll outrun them better than we can hide from them, and I'm much more confident in our skills on the water than stranded in a port.”

They all nod in agreement. Bitty is nervous about the possibility of an attack, but seeing Jack take control is a reassuring reminder that they have nothing to worry about. After all of the emotional ups and downs of the past few days, it’s a huge relief to ease back into their usual roles.

Jack turns to Ransom and Holster. “I need you two to go back into town and round up the crew. Do whatever it takes, and be back here in two hours.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

They sprint down the ramp and off the ship. Then Jack turns to Lardo and Bitty. “Are we all ready to set sail? How are our supplies?”

“We have everything we need in terms of powder and munitions,” Lardo responds, “and our rations stores are full. Right, Bitty?”

“Aye,” he replies. “Everything is replenished and accounted for.”

“That’s good,” says Jack.

Lardo adds, “The only thing left to do before setting sail is that I want Shitty to look over the rigging and yardarm one last time. I know he and Chowder were working on it yesterday.”

“Where is he?” Jack asks

“He’s on the ship. I think he’s down in the hold,” she says.

Jack nods. “Bring him up and let’s get the ship ready to sail in the next two hours.”

“Aye, aye.”

Over the next couple hours, the crew files back onto the ship, and they begin preparing to weigh anchor. Once Bitty finishes storing all the casks and rations in the galley, he lends a helping hand to anyone who needs one. All the while, anticipation and agitation builds among the crew at the prospect of an impending pursuit.

Jack checks in with each deckhand and officer as they rush to prepare the ship. At one point while Bitty is wrapping up spare ropes, he strides over and gives him an approving nod. Bitty returns the nod, and Jack pats him on the shoulder, smiling, before moving on to the next deckhand. He knows they are on full alert, but as Jack walks away, Bitty can't help the small smile growing on his face as well.

Within the two hours they were given, Ransom and Holster succeed in rounding up the entire crew. They charge onto the deck, bracketing a listless Nursey on either side.

“This is the last seadog in the port, Captain,” shouts Holster.

“‘Swawesome. Shitty, lift the anchor!” Jack calls.

“Aye, aye, Cap!” yells Shitty, sliding down from the crow’s nest.

“Ransom, Dex, set a course eastward.”

They shove off and set sail towards the open water with Jack at the helm, eager to evade the meddlesome Navy and whatever trouble they might bring.

***

On some level, Bitty blames himself for what happens next.

He climbs up to the crow’s nest to look out back towards Tortuga and make sure they aren't being followed. He's so intently focused on what's behind them that he fails to notice the ships ahead of them before it's too late.

A huge Man-of-War and a brigantine sail into view from the direction of the main island.

Bitty’s heart sinks as the two ships stalk toward them. They are clearly heading straight into an ambush.

He races down to the deck and practically trips dashing to the helm. “Captain!” he shouts.

He can only imagine what he looks like because Jack’s face instantly drops. “Bittle, what is it?”

Bitty can barely speak, he can only point. Jack grabs a telescope, whips it open and rushes to the rail. His whole body tenses as he surveys the scene.

He immediately calls for Holster. When he gets there, Jack hands him the telescope.

“Fuck.”

“I need you to ready the cannons,” Jack orders. “They will know better than to get too close to us, so we need to disable them before they disable us.”

“Aye, Captain, but they will both be in position to fire before we are,” says Holster.

“I'm aware of that,” Jack responds. “They may make a mistake and we need to be ready to jump on it. Target the Man-of-War first. Fire at my signal.”

Holster nods and hurries below deck.

Jack steps forward toward the center of the deck. The entire crew stops in their tracks. “Prepare for battle!” Jack shouts. “Do not lose your heads. We will give it everything we’ve got, because that’s what we always do!”

The entire crew shouts in agreement and set off again. The adrenaline rush is palpable.

“Can't we just try to outrun them?” Bitty asks Jack.

He shakes his head. “No, they're cutting off our route of escape. Our only options are to be cornered in retreat or to fight.”

Still, Bitty is worried. “But if they fire first…”

Jack is so focused that it feels more like he's looking through him than at him. “If they fire first, we fire back. We don't give up. We keep fighting until we win.” Bitty nods, and Jack turns back to the steering wheel and starts getting the ship into position for battle.

Bitty dashes below deck to help the cannoneers gather gunpowder and cannonballs. When he peeks out the porthole, he can see the two British ships turning into position. Holster is right: they will be ready before the _Samwell_ is.

Everyone on the crew is working fast and trying not to panic, but Bitty experiences a heavy feeling of dread in his chest, the likes of which he hasn’t felt since his first few battles. Unlike those times though, the fear seems to envelope the entire crew, not just him. Still, it’s a testament to their leadership that everyone remains focused entirely on the task at hand.

They are so focused that the first shot fired by the Navy ship catches everyone off-guard. It’s a direct hit on the side of the bow. Thankfully, it’s more of a graze than a devastating blow, but it still knocks out the cannon with the best shot at firing back at the Man-of-War. Holster and Nursey rush to load the next closest cannon to retaliate.

The next blow hits right as they’re finishing to load it. The enemy ships are just barely in range, so the shot hits low on the _Samwell_ , scarcely above the sea level. However, Bitty can hear it as water begins trickling into the hold.

Just then, Holster manages to fire back at the Man-of-War. The shot is on target and disables one of their cannons. However, they have no time to celebrate their perfect aim because the cannon shots keep coming.

Bitty rushes to the deck to report on their status and damage, when he sees the two Navy ships split off and sail towards the _Samwell_ , one on either side. He looks at Jack and recognizes the frustration on his face, because he feels it too. The twos ships are skimming only as close as their cannon range requires them to be, but Bitty knows that if they could only board one of the ships, they would have control in a matter of minutes. It’s a cowardly method of attack, but an effective one, and one that only someone very familiar with Jack Zimmermann’s style of piracy would know to do.

He races to join Jack at the helm, when the blows start coming in earnest. Some of the shots miss and fall straight into the ocean, but most hit their mark. The hull of the _Samwell_ is peppered with hits from both sides, wood splinters exploding everywhere. The crew below deck scramble to fire back, and they get some good shots in, but the two-sided assault quickly overwhelms their forces. All the while, the two Navy ships don’t even stop. They storm slowly past on either side, hedging in the _Samwell_ as they attack.

The panic gives way to chaos, as the deafening cannon fire and thick clouds of smoke make it almost impossible to avoid crashing into the men, masts and debris coming at them from every direction. Bitty feels useless, helpless, in the attack. There are more men than cannons, and even still, it’s becoming harder and harder to hit the Navy ships as they sail past, leaving the _Samwell_ in their wake.

Someone somewhere shouts that the hold is taking on water.

Jack must hear the news because he leaps off the platform at the stern and heads below deck to survey the damage. Bitty follows him, mostly because he needs to know what’s going on for himself.

When they see the damage, Bitty gasps and Jack’s eyes bulge in horror. The bilge and brig are already halfway filled with water. At the rate that the water rising, it should soon be at the level of the galley and sailors’ quarters.

The _Samwell_ is sinking.

They stand for a moment, watching the water rise, before Bitty grabs Jack by the arm and pulls him back up toward the deck.

The Navy ships are slipping out of firing range, but it doesn’t matter. Most of the damage has been done. At the very back of the Man-of-War, Bitty sees a well-dressed officer with a large hat and wig. Jack notices him too and strides to the very back of the ship. They’re too far to speak to each other, almost too far to even see each other, but Bitty can tell that the officer is taunting Jack, taunting them all, really.

The British ships slip away into the horizon, leaving only disaster behind them. Jack glares at the naval officer for just a moment, before turning his back on him. Unlike the admiral, they do not have the luxury of time on their side.

Jack pulls Shitty over to him. “Have you seen the flooding below deck?”

“Aye, brah,” replies Shitty. “It doesn’t look good.”

“Is there any way to repair the damage?”

Shitty shakes his head. “Even if we could get someone down there to fix the holes, we’ve already taken on too much water to stay afloat for very long.”

Jack frowns. “Is there any way to make it back to shore?”

“I’m not sure, Captain. Maybe if we unload everything and catch a break with the wind…”

Jack says nothing for a moment, then springs into captain mode. “Shitty, take Dex and see what you can do about fixing the holes and stopping the damage below deck. If the water gets up past the sailors’ quarters, then get the hell out of there.”

Shitty nods and gets to work. Jack then leaps up onto a rope ladder in the middle of the deck.

“Listen up!” he shouts to the crew, who all stop in their tracks to pay attention. “The ship is taking on water, so we need to unload any unnecessary weight if we want to have any chance of making it back to the island before we sink. Every barrel, any extra munitions, all of it goes into the ocean.” He turns and looks directly at Bitty. “That includes the biscuits, Bittle.”

Bitty doesn’t even argue. He just gets directly to work emptying the galley of all of the heavy supplies before the entire room is underwater.

“Holster, I want all of the cannons overboard as well,” he hears Jack yell.

“Are you sure, Captain?”

“What are we going to do with a cannon if we don’t even have a ship to fire it from? Lose the cannons!”

Bitty can hear the crash of the cannons being pushed into the sea through a breech in the hull.

Ransom steers them in the direction of Tortuga, as the rest of the crew rushes to jettison every spare ounce of weight on the ship. Bitty tosses barrel after barrel into the sea, his heart racing as they try to beat the clock.

Suddenly, the entire ship starts to tilt towards the starboard side, as water begins rushing in below deck. Everyone down there, including Bitty, hurries back up as if escaping a flooded anthill.

Bitty witnesses the exact moment when Jack realizes there’s no hope for the ship. The angle of the deck is becoming more precarious by the minute.

Jack’s shoulders slump as he makes his way toward the center of the deck. “Get all the wounded men and anyone else who can fit into the long boat. Sail to shore and get help.”

The only problem with the plan, Bitty realizes, is that there’s only one long boat. The other rowboat was destroyed in the ambush, and only about 12 people will be able to fit without sinking the small boat. Still, Bitty helps carry those who were injured in battle onto the rowboat and lower it down into the water, a much shorter journey given the slope of the ship.

By the time they finish, the water is up to the starboard railing. The crew members who remain start climbing up to the crow’s nest and yardarm, trying to prolong the inevitable. However, the captain is nowhere to be seen.

Bitty carefully maneuvers around the deck, unable to find him. When he reaches the captain’s cabin, he pauses. The water is already starting to leak into Lardo’s cabin, and Bitty knows that Jack’s cabin won’t be far behind, but still, he manages to open the door and step inside.

The furniture has all slid over to the left, but Jack is there in the back, sitting on a bedpost and facing away from the door. His whole body is hunched over, his face crumpled in his hands. When he hears Bitty walk in, he turns around abruptly and meets Bitty’s eyes.

He looks _wrecked_. His eyes gleam with tears, and Bitty can’t say anything, can’t do anything other than walk over and wrap his arms around Jack’s shoulders.

They are both wrecked, just like their ship – their home. After all they’ve gone through together, it seems impossible that it would end here. They fought so hard to get to this point, and now everything is crumbling away into the ocean.

They sit together mourning, unable to halt the slow descent of the _Samwell_ into the sea.

***

Their quiet moment is quickly interrupted by shouting from the deck. Jack, despite his emotional state, jumps up to find out what’s going on, and Bitty can’t help his curiosity. They head back out and see the remaining crew members shouting and pointing towards the east. An elegant galleon is swiftly approaching them.

Jack calls up frantically to Shitty, who is hanging from the crow’s nest, holding a telescope. “Friend or foe, Shits?”

“They’re flying the Jolly Roger, Captain. Could be either.”

Jack and Bitty climb up the rigging to meet him, both to get a better view and to avoid the rapidly encroaching line of water. Shitty dexterously passes Jack the telescope. As he looks over at the ship, his jaw drops in surprise.

“I know that ship,” he mutters. He asks Shitty, “Is there any way we can raise our colors?”

“It might be tricky, man, but we can try.”

“Do it,” Jack orders. “We need to do whatever we have to in order to get the attention of that ship.”

Shitty salutes and slides down the rigging to the leaning deck. Lardo leaps down to help him find their flag, sloshing around on the increasingly flooded deck and then painstakingly raising it to the top of the leaning mast.

It’s only a matter of minutes before the entire deck is underwater, the crew clinging to the rigging, sails and mast, anything that still remains above water. Meanwhile, the galleon heads straight for them.

It stops close by and sends a long boat toward the sinking _Samwell_. The remaining crew gets in the small boat just in time, and they row toward to the galleon, watching in shock as their ship finally sinks entirely below the water.

Once they reach the other ship, they are brought onto the deck by another pirate crew. None of them are certain if they are being welcomed as comrades or captured as prisoners. The galleon sails towards the _Samwell_ ’s longboat as well, picking up the injured crew that had sailed off for safety.

Once they are all on board, Jack heads directly for the helm.

A clear, feminine voice rings out across the deck. “Jack Zimmermann! I saw the flag and was wondering if it would be you or your father joining me today.”

Jack marches right up to a tall, dark-haired woman who is clearly the captain of the ship. “George! I see you’re still in the habit of showing up when I need you most.”

She smiles. “It’s always good to see you too, Jack.” She gives Jack a hearty hug, slapping him warmly on the back.

Jack turns to face the crew. “Guys, I’d like you to meet Captain Georgia Martin, a fierce pirate and an old friend.”

Georgia puts her hands on her hips and addresses them all. “It’s good to meet you all. Welcome aboard the _Providence._ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently created a shiny new fan Twitter account, so come say hi! I'm [@Chocoholic2_](https://twitter.com/Chocoholic2_) and I have literally no idea who to follow! You can expect dumb gifs and sad word count updates!


	6. Chapter 6

Captain Georgia Martin and the crew of the _Providence_ welcome them with open arms, although Bitty is wary at first.  The last pirate captain and “old friend” of Jack’s who showed up turned out to be not so friendly and more of a disaster waiting to happen. However, Jack seems relieved and comfortable around George, which is a very different scenario than whatever it was they experienced with Parse. He helps puts them all at ease among the _Providence_ pirates.

That night, both crews eat dinner together. Bitty sits around with some of the guys and listens to Georgia tell the story of how she and Jack came to know each other.

“Jack joined my crew some years ago as a deckhand, before he joined the _Samwell_ ,” she shares with them, laughing. “He was so determined to work for me.”

“You were the first respectable pirate I had seen since my parents,” Jack replies. “I wasn't going to work for just anyone!”

“Isn't ‘respectable pirate’ a bit of an oxymoron?” she asks him, teasing.

Jack shrugs his shoulders, smirking. “Anyway,” Georgia continues, gesturing with her hands as she talks, “Jack walked right up to me and demanded to join my crew. Now, not everyone wants to sail under a woman, so I was intrigued but also careful with this bold, insistent young man.” She grins. “I made him prove himself with the most ridiculous tasks.”

“I had no idea at the time,” Jack says, shaking his head. "I thought it was normal for anyone trying to join the crew. It wasn't until later I realized you were hazing me.” He glances around at his crew thoughtfully. “But it stuck with me, the pickiness at least. Once I had my own ship, I was extremely careful about choosing my crew.” He looks over to his left at Bitty. “Only Bittle here managed to sneak aboard without my approval, but lucky for all of us, he's a pretty great crewmate.”

The compliment catches Bitty off guard, and he almost chokes on his drink. Jack hits him on the back a couple times as he coughs into his cup, both pleased and completely embarrassed.

Georgia looks at Bitty observingly. “A good crew is essential to a ship’s success. I'm happy you found one you can trust.” She turns back to Jack. “But I am sorry for hazing you. Some of the things I made you do…”

Jack chuckles. “You had me shoot a coconut off the crow’s nest from the dock. And then you made me disarm your boatswain, the big one.”

Her eyes light up, and she smirks. “I remember forcing you to run around the island with me.”

He smiles at the memory. “You said if you couldn't keep up, then I could have a job.”

“And if my memory doesn't fail me, you only barely beat me,” she chirps.

“And that was only because my legs are slightly longer.”

As content as Jack seems around Georgia, Bitty notices his spirits are low in the quiet moments. They're all still a bit in shock after everything. The adrenaline crash from battling for their lives and just barely escaping their sunken ship has left them all fatigued and dazed.

Bitty’s grateful for the hospitality – they all are – but it's confusing. Are they crew members of the _Providence_ now, or is this just a ride to shore? Will the crew of the _Samwell_ be left to their own devices, soon to be scattered on ships across the Atlantic? The thought of leaving them is too distressing to even consider.

Bitty is completely drained and overwhelmed. He’s not sure if he should allow himself to do this, especially in front of so many people, but he can hardly help the way his head slumps over onto Jack’s arm. Jack turns his head, and Bitty looks up at him through his eyelashes, asking wordlessly if this is okay, or if it's against some provision in the pirates’ code to rest his head on his captain’s – strong, solid – biceps. Jack doesn't say anything, his eyes unreadable, but he wraps his arm around Bitty's back, holding him up. They remain like that for a while.

“You all must be exhausted,” Georgia says eventually. Bitty sees a handful of his crewmates drifting off as well. She continues, “We don't have much extra room in the sailors’ quarters, but we will do what we can to accommodate all of you.”

The _Providence_ crew members immediately get up and begin getting them situated for sleeping in any nook and cranny they can find. Georgia crosses over to Jack and offers her hand. Jack turns to Bitty first, who sits up groggily, before letting her pull him up. “You can sleep on the chair in my cabin, Jack,” she says.

Bitty watches as she and Jack retreat, then allows one of the _Providence_ deckhands to drag him up and lead him to one of the empty bunks.

As soon as he lies down, the exhaustion takes over, and he descends into a deep sleep.

***

There's a brief feeling of disorientation when Bitty wakes up the next morning before he fully processes where he is and what's happened; it's not unlike his first morning on the _Samwell_. As he stretches, it comes back to him, although the feelings of loss and melancholy don't seem so raw after a night of rest.

He creeps above deck at dawn, just as the sky begins to brighten. The air is cool, and Bitty wraps his arms around himself both as a shield against the chill as well as a small comfort. He makes his way to the bow, stopping when he sees the front of the ship is already occupied by Jack and Georgia. They’re talking seriously, Georgia gesticulating with open hands while Jack nods his head in rapt attention. Bitty hesitates, wondering whether he should sneak back below deck or announce his presence before they see him. If Jack finds him eavesdropping again… He should just let him be. Whatever it is, it's none of his business anyway. He’s mid-turn to head back below deck when they spot him.

“Good morning, Bittle.”

Bitty turns sheepishly back towards them. “Good morning, Jack. Captain Martin,” he adds in her direction.

“I see you’re an early riser, too,” Georgia says.

Bitty nods. "I have Jack here to thank for becoming a morning person. Most days, we get up early, and he helps me with my swordsmanship.”

“As long as it’s alright with George, we could always get some practice in,” Jack teases. “You managed to escape with your sword on you, too, eh?” he says, patting the scabbard hanging from his belt. “I guess I’m lucky that this time when my ship sank I had my weapon with me.”

Despite the joke, Bitty can detect the sadness in Jack’s voice; the phrase “this time” practically breaks his heart.

Georgia, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to pick up on it, or if she does, she doesn’t comment on it. “I don’t mind you sparring on the ship as long as you’re careful. The deck is like a minefield of sleeping pirates, and I wouldn’t want anyone to get stabbed or stepped on." She puts a hand on Jack’s arm, rubbing it reassuringly. “I’ll leave you two to talk, and give you some time to consider my offer. But I’d like to have your answer by the time we hit shore at nightfall.”

Jack nods affirmatively, and Georgia turns and heads back to her cabin.

“May I?” Bitty asks, tilting his head toward the now empty space next to Jack on the rail.  
Jack nods and Bitty slides over join him.

“How are you doing?” Jack asks him with concern. “Did you sleep okay?”

Bitty shrugs. “As good as to be expected, you know? New ship and all.” Then he adds, “I could be asking you the same question. How are you doing?”

Jack sighs. “I don’t know,” he admits. He’s clearly exhausted, dark circles making a home under his eyes. However, despite that, there’s an energy about him. Bitty can't tell if it's adrenaline or anxiety or possibly some combination of both.

“What did Georgia mean by her offer?” Bitty asks tentatively.

Jack doesn’t answer right away, like he’s still processing things for himself. “She has a ship,” he finally says.

“A ship?” Bitty repeats. “Like, in addition to the _Providence_?”

Jack runs his hand through his hair. “It’s called the _Falconer_. It’s brand new, and she wants me to captain it.”

“But Jack, that’s great!” Bitty exclaims. “That’s amazing! Just like that, you’ll have a new ship. We can pick up where we left off, you can be captain again and—” he trails off when it becomes obvious that Jack does not have a wholly positive opinion about the development. “What’s wrong? Oh, there’s a catch, isn’t there?”

“Yes. I mean, no, it’s not a catch, but it’s—” Jack turns around and leans back against the railing. He exhales loudly, making a frustrated noise. “I should feel excited about this. I don’t know how I would ever get another ship otherwise, but... it’s also just another opportunity for me to fuck everything up.”

He turns his head away, despondent, as if he truly believes the blame for the _Samwell_ rests with him. Bitty hates it. He’s seen the way that sort of thinking eats at him, and he’s not going to stand for it this time.

“Jack, I mean no disrespect, but you're acting dumber than a sack of rocks.” Jack looks at him startled, but Bitty doesn't slow down. “You haven’t fucked anything up. Sure our ship is at the bottom of the ocean, but it’s not like you sent a letter the Royal Navy and begged them to blow us up.”

Jack gapes at him, bewildered. “Well, no but—”

“We all played a part. Do you blame me for not spotting the ambush earlier?”

“Of course not! Bittle, I would never—”

“What about Holster? Do you think it’s his fault for not hitting the other ships more?

“No, but I—”

“Or Shitty for not fixing the hold fast enough?”

“Not at all. That wasn’t his fault."

“So then why—”

Jack talks over him. “No one would be after us in the first place if I had kept to myself and not killed the admiral.”

Bitty turns to look at Jack. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re a pirate. We’re all pirates! The Royal Navy would have been after us anyway!” he yells.

Jack stares at him wide-eyed, and Bitty feels his cheeks redden. He hasn’t lost his cool in front of the captain in a long time.

“I don’t think you’ve yelled at me like that you first came aboard, Bittle.”

“Well, sometimes you don’t believe me, and I gotta yell,” Bitty mumbles, bowing his head. When he looks up again, Jack is laughing silently next to him. Bitty glares. “I’m glad to see you’re in a better mood about all of this, Mr. Zimmermann. I’m just trying to help you here.”

Jack turns back around and leans over the railing next to Bitty, bumping his shoulder gently. “And I think it might be working.”

He faces the water, the both of them breathing in time with the waves softly crashing on the side of the ship.

Finally, Jack breaks the silence. “I don't know what I should do,” he whispers. “George wants 50% of our loot for the first year and then 10% after that in exchange for the ship. Even if I give up my captain’s share for the first year, that's still a major pay cut for the entire crew. Who would agree to that?”

“I would,” Bitty responds immediately. “Lardo would. Shitty definitely would.” Jack still looks like he doesn't quite believe him. Bitty sighs. “Why don't you ask the crew themselves before you make a decision on their behalf? Who knows, maybe they'll surprise you.”

It’s hard to tell, but Bitty thinks he can see some hope behind Jack’s hangdog expression. “Fine, Bittle... We’ll have an all-hands meeting.”

***

Later in the day, Georgia lets the former _Samwell_ crew gather in the sailors’ quarters while her crew is on duty.

Jack stands awkwardly in the back, watching everyone as they file in and get settled on the mismatched bunks and hammocks. Bitty takes a cot near the center of the room, patting the spot next to him when Lardo walks by.

“So, new ship, huh?” she whispers knowingly in his ear as she sits down next to him.

He smiles conspiratorially. "He told you too?”

She grins. “I told him he was an idiot for worrying about it. As long as the ship is in good condition, I think it’s a ‘swawesome idea.”

“He just needs to hear it from someone other than me. I feel like I just talk at him ‘til his ears fall off sometimes."

“He trusts your opinion, Bits, but you know Jack. He has no idea of his own influence. He still thinks he was voted captain by accident. Half of us could be captains of our own ships if we wanted to, but I think most of the guys will be relieved we still get to sail under Jack.”

“And we get to stay together as a crew,” Bitty adds, leaning against Lardo. “I don’t know if I could bear it if we weren’t on the same ship, Lards. I’m not going to let Jack screw that up for us just because he’s a big dingus who can’t accept a brand new ship when it’s handed to him on a platter,” he insists, mostly joking, but not entirely. Lardo laughs, ignoring the confused looks the crew shoots her way. Jack raises one eyebrow at them, which sends them both into giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Shitty asks, pushing them apart so he can squeeze between them on the cot.

“Bitty called Jack a big dingus,” Lardo whispers, clearly enjoying the way Shitty cackles.

“Well, he is,” Bitty insists. “And at least for the time being, he’s not my captain, so when else am I going to have the opportunity to tell it like it is.”

“That’s true,” Shitty agrees.

"Ahem, if you’re done,” Jack says, moving to the front of the room, “I’d like to start the meeting.”

The crew members quiet down, and Jack begins explaining all about the _Falconer_ and Georgia’s offer.

As he talks, everyone leans in, hanging on his every word. There's something about the way he speaks that is utterly captivating. It's not his usual monotone, which could put a man to sleep in the worst cases. His words convey passion even in his uncertainty.

“I know you have no reason to trust me,” Jack says to the group, looking to each of them solemnly. “All I've done is drag you on a wild goose chase for the Cup, sink your ship and all your belongings, and then ask you to come back for a fraction of the pay. I don't expect any of you to want to sail with me, and there will be no hard feelings if you want to leave tonight and never come back. In fact, I would respect it... I already know that I've let you down in a big way…” He trails off and doesn’t meet any of their eyes.

The crew is silent, not sure if Jack has more to say, processing all of the things he’s said already.

Finally, a small voice chimes in. “But it’s like you always say… we win as a team, right?” says Chowder earnestly. “Well, that means sometimes we lose as a team, too. But all that matters is that we’re still a team no matter what… Right?” There’s a murmur of assent among everyone.

After a moment, Shitty stands up. “Do we get a chance to inspect this ship? Like how do we know it's not a fucking garbage heap?”

Jack answers him. “It will be in the harbor when we get in tonight. We can do a thorough inspection tomorrow morning.”

“And how do we even know we can trust Captain Martin?” adds Ransom. “I mean, I know she saved our lives and all, but what's her deal?”

“We can trust her,” Jack assures. “I've known her for a long time. She's been a good mentor to me over the years. Now she wants to get a few ships together that can stake a larger claim on the merchant trade and team up together against other fleets like the Royal Navy as necessary. So we would technically report to her, but we could benefit a lot too."

The group seems to have a positive response to that. Even though Bitty knows she likes the idea, Lardo asks a clarifying question. “So she's the one making decisions?” she asks, as much for Jack's benefit as for theirs.

“She said that as captain I would still have final autonomy for all matters on my ship. She may ask for our assistance or an alliance, but she trusts my judgment. Other than the size of our shares, nothing would have to change. We could still go where we want, raid who we want—”

“Party how we want!" says Shitty, shaking the shoulders of the nearest frog and high-fiving anyone within reach.

There’s a peal of laughter from the men. Bitty looks at Lardo, and they share a look, satisfied with how everything is turning out.

Once everyone quiets down a bit, Holster says definitively, “I think we need to see this ship before we make any decisions, but if it checks out…” He looks around and everyone nods.

Bitty looks over at Jack, who seems a little stunned by the display of support. He meets his eyes and doesn't look away.

“You gave me a second chance when I needed it most. Don’t you deserve a second chance, Jack?”

Jack opens his mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out. He stands like that for an uncomfortable moment until Lardo mercifully swoops in and takes over.

“That settles it. Officers will inspect the ship tomorrow and if we like it, then we set sail. Together.” She and Jack have a wordless exchange, and he looks grateful. Then she turns to the group and smirks. “Plus, the _Falconer_ is like a fuckin’ ‘swawesome name for a ship. How can we turn that down?”

***

The next morning, Georgia leads Jack and a handful of others on a walkthrough of the new ship. Bitty doesn't expect to go with them – Georgia had invited officers only – and waves goodbye as they walk down off the _Providence_.

It's not until Jack calls back to him from the dock that he even starts to think otherwise. “What are you doing, Bittle? Stop dawdling and get down here.”

Bitty is confused, but he hurries down to join the group of Jack, Georgia, Shitty, Lardo, Ransom and Holster. “I thought it was only officers,” he says uncertainly.

“Exactly. Or did you forget that you're the galley manager?”

Georgia, who is leading the group along the docks through the harbor, turns back. “Galley manager? Well, that's a new one. I’ve never heard of a galley manager position before."

“It’s an important one on our ship. We haven’t had a case of scurvy since Bittle took over,” Jack says.

“You don't say.” She smirks first at Jack and then at Bitty. Jack doesn't seem to register the chirp for what it is, but Bitty certainly does. The way Georgia looks at him makes him feel like she can see every single aspect of his impossible crush on Jack. He begs her with his eyes to not say anything, his cheeks blushing against his will. It's not like he asked to be galley manager – well he did, but that was before he even realized how much he liked the captain. He didn't know it would make him an officer or give him a place in Jack’s inner circle.

Luckily, she doesn't say anything, but simply lets it be and turns back around to lead the group.

“The master builder just moved the ship into the water for the first time. The good news is that it floats, which means it will probably sail too,” she jokes.

They arrive at the last dock in the bay, and there sits the _Falconer_.

For a long time no one says anything. They simply stare at the ship in awe. Finally, Shitty breaks the silence. “What a motherfuckin’ beaut…” he mutters, half to himself.

It truly is a majestic vessel. The ship is a grand galleon, somewhere in between the size of the _Samwell_ and the _Providence_. Bitty gazes up at the lightly billowing sails, still in pristine condition, and the richly colored wood of the hull, as of yet unaffected by sun and saltwater. He's never been more impressed or moved by an inanimate object that wasn't a baked good before. And he's not the only one. Shitty tries to stealthily wipe away a tear, while Ransom and Holster are visibly drooling.

Jack’s face so rarely betrays his emotions, but he's staring at the ship with unabashed admiration.

“Not too shabby, eh?” he says to Georgia.

She smiles. “I knew you'd like it. It's built to be the quickest ship of its size on the seas today.”

“I don't understand why you don't just keep it for yourself,” Jack replies.

“The _Providence_ is my ship," she insists. "I have no desire to sail anything else, especially if it meant sailing a smaller vessel. But when I decided I wanted a fleet, I knew I would need more ships. The _Falconer i_ s built for speed, but with enough hold space and firepower to be an effective threat. It needs a nimble, courageous captain." She looks right at Jack. "Think you're up for the challenge?”

“I'll do my best,” he replies.

Georgia smiles. “I have no doubt. This really is a win-win for me,” she says proudly. “Now come on, let's check it out.”

Georgia leads the group onto the ship and begins showing them around. The _Falconer_ is already fully equipped with everything from sails to cannons. As they walk around the deck, Shitty and Lardo inspect the rigging and masts for weaknesses and imperfections. Shitty even zips up to the crow’s nest. “Just testing the durability, bro!” he shouts, hanging halfway off the guardrail. He grabs a rope and flips out, swinging dramatically down to the deck. “That should do nicely for my purposes.”

“Stop showing off, Shitty,” Jack says, inspecting the rails and deck surface.

They go below deck to look at the hold, cannons and sailors’ quarters, all of which are a huge upgrade to what they had on the _Samwell_.

“And here’s the galley, Bittle,” Georgia announces. She stands aside for Bitty to walk inside.

“What do you think?” Jack asks, stepping in behind him.

“Still no stove,” Bitty jokes, “but other than that, it's perfect! Look at this cabinet space!”

He can hear the snickering of his crewmates behind him, but he doesn't care. It's not like he hides how much he appreciates a good kitchen.

They head back above deck to take a look at the cabins. Both the captain’s and quartermaster’s cabins are completely furnished with a bed and a desk, with an impressive amount of storage and shelving for such small rooms.

“This is so much more efficient!” Lardo exclaims, looking around the space. “I might actually have room to work in here.”

The captain’s cabin is similar, but slightly bigger than the quartermaster’s cabin.

“I hope you don't mind,” Georgia remarks, “but I skipped the traditional pomp and flummery of gold leaf and silk and used the money to buy another cannon instead.”

Jack grins at her. “Exactly as I would have done myself.”

In addition to the desk, there is also a small table and two leather chairs. Hanging over the back of the second chair is a blue coat with gold trim, which Georgia picks up and holds up to Jack. “I know the color is a bit untraditional, and it’s a bit formal for everyday wear, but it's the same one that I have and that the other captains in the fleet will have. I had to guess your size.”

Jack turns around, and she helps him into the coat. He shrugs into the sleeves, adjusting the clasps at the front, and Bitty has to hold in a gasp; he looks so impressive. It fits him perfectly, the blue bringing out the striking color of his eyes even more.

Jack runs his hands over the sleeves and the clasps. “This must have taken weeks to make.... How did you know—”

“That it would be you? Jack, it might have been a coincidence that I found you when you needed a ship, but finding you wasn't an accident. I've been looking for you for a while.” She clasps his shoulder playfully. “I had no intention of taking no for an answer.”

“Well, I need to confer with my crew here about the ship, but I think that I know what my answer will be.” Jack turns to the five of them. “So, what do you think?”

“Don't be a shithead, Jack," says Ransom, making them all laugh. "The ship is legit and you know it.”

“Well, I guess that's it," he replies, moving to shake Georgia’s hand. "Thank you,” he says to her sincerely. “It’s perfect.”

“Take good care of it, Jack,” she replies, pulling him into a hug. “And take care of yourself.”

***

They head back to the _Providence_ to share the good news with the rest of the crew. The next couple days are spent finding – and sometimes stealing – all of the supplies they need to set sail. At one point, Bitty even sneaks onto a large estate and manages to bake three pies without the cook knowing. He gives them to Georgia as a thank you and parting gift.

“You're something else, Bittle,” she says, sniffing happily at the still-warm sweet potato pie in her hands.

“It's really the least we could do!” he insists. “We can never thank you enough.”

Jack, listening from a few feet away adds, "Although once you taste the pie, you might consider us even. Bittle's pies are that good."

Bitty manages to make his getaway before either captain can say anything about his embarrassingly flushed cheeks.

As Bitty makes his way off the _Providence_ for a few last minute errands, he runs into Lardo coming up the ramp.

“Hey Bits, want to come with me to get some paint?”

“Sure, what for?”

“We need a new Jolly Roger for the _Falconer_. George said we don't have to fly her colors, so I'm going to redo Jack's old design.”

As they walk through the port, a thought comes to Bitty. “What if we changed the design? Updated it a bit. Think the captain would mind?”

“I don't know…” she responds nervously. “You know how he is about the Zimmermann colors.”

Even their enemies are familiar with the fact that Jack sails under the same flag as his father: a skull above two crossed swords – a French saber and a Japanese katana. When Bitty had asked him about it once, Jack had said the swords represented the fighting styles of his father and mother. Using that flag is obviously a tribute to them, but he talked about it almost as if it were a family crest for him, having sailed under it for most of his life. But with as much change and upheaval they’ve experienced lately, Bitty thinks maybe Jack will be open to this change too.

“I have an idea for a design that I think will still reflect the Zimmermann legacy, but that will set us apart, in a good way.”

“I don't know, Bits... What did you have in mind?” When he tells her, her expression changes instantly. “Oh, that's good. I can do that!”

***

The crew rushes up and down the harbor making sure everything is ready on the new ship. When they are finally ready to launch, they say goodbye to the crew of the _Providence_.

“We’ll meet back here in six months for the first payment,” Jack assures Georgia, hugging her goodbye.

“I'm looking forward to it!” she replies.

The last stragglers of the _Falconer_ crew come aboard their new home and wave down at the _Providence_ deckhands who came to send them off. Finally, Georgia smashes a bottle of champagne on the hull, commemorating the launch, and gives the ship one last shove away from the deck. Bitty watches them until they shrink away in the distance.

As soon as they pass out of the harbor, Jack turns to the crew. “All hands on deck!" Once everyone is gathered together, he declares, "Today we embark together as a crew on the maiden voyage of the _Falconer_!”

Everyone erupts into cheers, and Jack continues. “And I couldn't imagine a better group of people to have with me. There's a saying around here. 'We have each other’s back.' And from now on I want to honor that. So now it's time to hoist the— Uh oh…” He looks chagrined. “I forgot about the colors.”

“I didn't," Lardo responds immediately. She moves to open a chest near the mast, pulling out a large black flag. “Now don't freak out...”

Bitty goes over to stand next to her and says, “We might have changed the design a bit. If you hate it, you can blame me! Lardo painted it, but the whole thing was my idea.” As she unfolds it, he adds, “But it turned out pretty good if I say so myself.”

Lardo hands him a corner and they hold up the new flag in front of everyone. The skull is still there, but instead of two swords in the shape of an X, there are three – a French saber, a Japanese katana and a pirate cutlass – making a Z pattern with the skull on top. Jack’s eyes narrow as he moves to view it more closely.

“Is it okay?” Bitty asks nervously.

He gets no answer until Jack finally says, “What are you waiting for? Raise the colors!”

They hoist the flag to its rightful spot, looking up as it whips in the wind.

“Ransom, set a course west. We’re going after the Stanley Cup.”

“Aye, aye!” Ransom shouts back, and the rest of the men cheer.

They all get to work, slowly getting familiar with the _Falconer_. Jack steers them away from the harbor and off in the direction of the setting sun.

***

That night, Bitty finds Jack alone at the helm. “Um, Captain?”

“What's up, Bittle? Is everything okay?”

“Um, maybe.” He slips closer to the captain. “Well, I think so...” He continues nervously, without stopping to take a breath. “It's just that you never really said anything about the whole flag thing, so I wanted to make sure you weren't mad at me because I went behind your back to change it, and I would hate it if I upset you, and I'm sorry if you don't like it, and Lardo said she would redo it, so if you want—”

Jack cuts in. “Hey, it’s okay! In fact, it's… It's good. I like it,” he insists. “And it's about time I had my own flag.”

Bitty is so relieved that he allows himself to take another step closer to Jack. He fiddles with the end of one of the steering wheel spokes as Jack continues.

“I always wanted to honor them, you know. My parents. But they would have liked this.” He catches himself. “Would like it,” he corrects, hope and doubt both evident in his voice.

“Will you ever be able to find them?” Bitty asks quietly.

“That's what I'm hoping for, as soon as I get the Cup.”

Jack seems to be in a good mood, so Bitty allows himself to ask something he's been wondering about for a while. "Why don't you just forget about the Cup and focus on figuring out what happened to them? Can't the treasure wait?”

Jack doesn't answer right away. He looks at Bitty and seems to decide something. Bitty blushes under the scrutiny, but he doesn't look away. “To answer that question,” Jack says in a low voice, “I'd have to tell you something no one else on the crew knows. Hardly anyone alive knows. Can I trust you to keep it secret?”

Bitty nods, gazing at Jack intently. “You can tell me anything,” he whispers. Jack looks around briefly to make sure they are alone on the helm. Everyone else is either at the front of the ship or below deck.

Bitty's heart races, and he can barely breathe as Jack leans in close, their heads bowed together over the wheel.

Jack begins telling a story – a secret – about the Cup and its amazing, unbelievable properties. Bitty listens first in disbelief, then in shock, then in awe.

“And that's why I need to find the Cup,” Jack eventually finishes. His voice has remained steady throughout it all, but Bitty notices how white his knuckles are as they clench at the handles of the wheel.

Bitty puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We will find it, Jack. I swear it, we'll find them.” He savors the open look of gratitude that Jack gives him, his stomach swooping pleasantly.

When he goes to sleep not much later, he lies in his bunk and thinks about what he would wish for if he had the chance. He can think of many things, but he keeps coming back to whether the Cup has the ability to make handsome, brooding pirate captains fall in love with boys like him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's technically still May 18th in my timezone, so happy anniversary Jack and Bitty!
> 
> And thanks again to [BakedHam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BakedHam/pseuds/BakedHam) and [BaegentWashington](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanTheFreewoodGuy/pseuds/BaegentWashington) for making this chapter (and me as a writer) better.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate chapter, folks! Thank you so much for your patience. I am probably the person who is the most excited that this chapter has been completed. It's been a challenge, but here it is!
> 
> I am indebted to [BaegentWashington](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanTheFreewoodGuy/pseuds/BaegentWashington) and [BakedHam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BakedHam/pseuds/BakedHam%20) for their fresh eyes and amazing help.
> 
> My goal is still to finish this before Ngozi's next comic update (I know I said that about the last batch of updates, but I really meant the _next_ ones. That was my plan the whole time...)
> 
> Enjoy!

When Bitty first suggested that they track down Cutthroat Kent, he assumed it would be easy: just follow in the wake of pillage and plunder left behind by the _Ace_ and eventually they’ll catch up with him. The reality, he discovers, is much different.

“Cutthroat Kent’s success as a pirate comes from the fact that he uses a ‘take no prisoners’ approach,” Lardo explains to him one night, sipping on a mug of rum. “There’s no pillage or plunder left to tell you where the _Ace_ has been because there’s nothing left behind, period. He’s fucking ruthless, Bits.”

So it would seem that Bitty’s idea of following and finding Parse the old-fashioned way won’t bring them any closer to the Cup than if they simply gave up looking for him and searched blindly for the Cup itself.

In any other case – with any other captain – they would be dead in the water. Instead, they have Jack, who not only knows Kent’s history, but also some of his secrets. Most usefully, he knows the existence of his hideout on Isla de las Vegas, a tiny island within the Bermuda Triangle. According to the captain, Parse returns there to store his treasure every couple months. All they have to do is wait there and wage a surprise attack in order to get what they need to find the Cup. In theory, it's the perfect plan.

The only problem is that the map to the island was destroyed along with the _Samwell_. Jack has spent the past few weeks trying to relocate the site of the hideout with the help of their navigators, but from Bitty’s perspective, it's hard to tell if they've had any success at all.

Although Jack is a man on a mission, he does agree to take a brief detour to break in the ship. The _Falconer_ sails like a dream, and the crew has been itching to see what it can do in a raid. A few weeks in, they get their chance when Shitty spots a French merchant ship.

“Come on, Captain. Let us take down this one. It’s a fucking easy target. Look at it!” he says, leaning on Jack’s shoulders.

Jack groans, shoving Shitty off of him. “Fine, we can go after them. Just put some fucking pants on.”

 They change course to overtake the ship, arriving so fast that they barely have time to prepare for the attack. Bitty worries slightly that he's gotten rusty – he hasn’t been in battle since the sinking of the _Samwell_ – but as soon as he lands on deck of the French barque, his muscle memory kicks in and it's like no time has passed. He and Jack find each other effortlessly, working together to mow down everyone in their path.

They end the day with a satisfactory haul, even after Georgia’s portion is taken into account. While most of the men begin celebrating the conquest and the fruitful first battle of the new ship, Jack returns to his cabin and his tireless grind. It’s almost as impressive as it is worrisome.

Each day, Jack is the first person up and the last person to bed. Technically, no one has seen him sleep since they launched. He spends all day poring over maps with Ransom and Dex, doing endless calculations with an assortment of navigational instruments whose function Bitty can only guess at. As soon as the sun goes down, he spends at least half the night gazing at the stars, charting the smallest, most precise movements to reference against his maps in the morning.

On top of it all, he still manages to wake Bitty up before dawn for sword fighting practice. One particular morning, Bitty manages to disarm him within the first ten minutes, cutting his record in more than half. He sends Jack directly to bed after that. Jack protests half-heartedly but agrees when Bitty reminds him he will need to be at his best when they finally reach their destination. He can't afford to possibly go into battle with Kent at less than full strength, especially when they have no idea when that will be.

With each passing day, Bitty gets a little more anxious about the health and wellbeing of his captain. He takes it upon himself to check in at least once a day, usually around lunch time so he can make sure Jack is eating too. He drifts uncertainly toward the patch on the deck where Ransom, Dex and Jack have been camping out with their charts, carrying a small plank loaded up with hardtack, salted meat and fish. Most days, they barely acknowledge him and mindlessly shovel the food in their mouths. That's a good day. Sometimes they snap at him, although they always apologize afterward. The first time that happened, it shocked Bitty so much that the food he was holding went flying, and Jack got a fish in the face. Now they’re all more careful.

“Ahoy, boys. How's it going there?” Bitty asks, taking in the sight of the three of them bent over a map. For once, they look up and smile.

“We just had a breakthrough,” Ransom declares.

“Dex was able to narrow down our search zone to just four square leagues over here,” Jack says, pointing at a spot on the map and beaming at Dex like a proud father, much to his embarrassment.

“That's great!” Bitty says, handing off the biscuits, politely ignoring Dex’s bright red ears. “Does that mean we can start closing in on Isla de las Vegas soon?”

“We can start setting a course today,” says Ransom, “like right now even.”

“Oh gosh, well don't let me keep you,” exclaims Bitty. “How long will it take to get there?”

“Only about a week, provided we've found the correct location. It will take about four days to get to the area we’ve identified, and then some trial and error finding the right island. I'll know it when I see it though.”

“So you've been there before?” Bitty asks.

“Yes. We found it back when I was sailing with my father. Kent always liked it, so he went back a few years later to turn it into a sort of hideout.”

Ransom rubs his hands together giddily. “I still can't believe we're going to the hideout of Cutthroat Kent Parson. The bro must have, like, mad treasure.”

Bitty doesn’t think the others notice Jack’s grimace. “Yeah, probably. I guess we’ll know for sure soon enough.”

***

When they get close, it becomes obvious why they weren't able to pinpoint the exact location of Isla de las Vegas. The entire area is speckled with small islands as far as the eye can see. To make things even more complicated, there's a wicked current making it all but impossible to sail in any semblance of a straight line.

“Haul wind and reef the sails, Shitty,” Jack calls to him from the helm. “We need to take it easy or else we’ll be back where we started.”

“Gotta go east to go west,” Lardo confirms from the bow. Bitty pulls on a support rope on the starboard side, flanked by Dex and Nursey as they try to balance the strength of Ransom and Holster on the port side. They pull the sails taut, sailing with knifelike precision through the bright turquoise water.

The _Falconer_ slowly circles its way into the heart of the cluster of islands until they reach the half-dozen or so at center.

“It's one of these,” Jack announces, scanning the small group of islands surrounding them. “But we’ll have to wait until nightfall to know for certain which one.”

“Why? What happens at nightfall?” Bitty asks.

“That's when we’ll be able to see the Strip.” His answer leaves Bitty as confused as ever, but Jack says nothing to clarify.

It's still only late afternoon, so all they can do is wait, the anticipation growing along with the lengths of the shadows. Their normal duties and chores fall to the wayside in favor of sharpening swords and polishing pistols, all while taking bets over which island is the true Isla de las Vegas.

Bitty excuses himself when the discussion devolves to a particularly dumb and anxiety-inducing conversation – _“Would you rather find 1000 roaches in the brig or a stowaway?”_ – since he’s already feeling antsy about this whole mission. He would just go find Jack and see if he wanted to spar to release some energy and tension, but the captain has been holed up in his cabin for hours. Bitty wonders if he's okay, ready to take on his oldest friend in his own domain. Although he would do anything to help Jack, it doesn't change the fact that Cutthroat Kent is _dangerous_ ; he didn't get his nickname by accident. Hopefully they can take advantage of the element of surprise and come out of this alive and in possession of the compass.

At twilight, Jack finally leaves his cabin, joining them all on the deck where they’re waiting for sundown. The sunset itself is a spectacular show of orange skies and purple clouds. On any other day, it would be a breathtaking sight worthy of wonder – or at least acknowledgement – but tonight Bitty hardly notices. They all just want it to be over and for the darkness to reveal their course.

The sun finally slips beneath the horizon and takes most of the light with it. Bitty looks around at the surrounding islands, wondering what exactly it is that they're looking for.

As he gets more impatient, Jack just shakes his head, smiling. “Just a little while longer, Bittle. It will be obvious when you see it.”

Bitty huffs. “How do you know we’re even in the right place?”

“Just trust me.”

Bitty is in the middle of an impressive eye roll when he hears a gasp from across the deck.

_“Holy shit!”_

_“Well shiver me fuckin’ timbers!”_

“‘ _Swawesome!_ ”

They all rush over to the starboard side, and there it is. Out across the water is an island that, up until that point, had been most notable for its horseshoe shaped ridge, lined by a row of palm trees. However, it’s a much more impressive sight now.

All of the trees along the ridge are emitting a bright light. Most of them are glowing white, but some vivid green, blue and even some red ones are interspersed along the line. All of the light seems to be coming from inside the trees themselves.

“And that is the Strip,” Jack announces to the awestruck crew. Bitty blinks frantically, rubbing his eyes and trying to fathom exactly what it is that he's seeing. The luminescent palms seem to twinkle as the fronds sway in the breeze. The effect is mesmerizing.

It takes a long time to get the crew to stop staring. Even Bitty can't pull himself to look away until Lardo physically drags him away from the rail.

“It's gotta be something in the soil,” Ransom mutters as he's being shepherded away by Holster “Otherwise the trees on the other side of the island would glow too.”

“Or it could just be magic,” chirps Holster, pushing Ransom past Bitty and towards the port side.

“Ha, because that exists.”

“Tell that to the ghosts you totally weren’t complaining about earlier.”

“That's not the same, bro!”

Whether it's magic dirt or not, Bitty cannot believe it.  “It's beautiful,” he whispers to no one in particular, although Jack is standing close enough to hear.

“Pretty cool, eh? When we were younger, Parse and I always said this would make a good hideout: hard to get to, easy to find.”

“So what's the plan from here, Captain?” Lardo asks, joining them at the front of the ship.

“Now we sail into the bay there,” he replies, pointing. “Luckily, the trees light the way for us.”

“Wouldn't it make more sense to sneak up from around the back?”                                  

Jack shakes his head. “That’s the only way in. If you try to land on the island from any other bearing, the current sends your ship careening off in a different direction. The only way in or out is that harbor.”

Lardo looks uneasy. “That means we’ll be exposed when Parson gets here.”

“Not necessarily,” Jack responds. “There's a small inlet over there that's just big enough to hide a ship from the outside. We’ll drop anchor there and wait for the _Ace._ It's going to be risky because if anyone on their crew sees us, there's no escape route except right through their front door.”

“Well then, we better not be spotted,” she says with an upward quirk of her lips.

They sail slowly into the bay, guided by the glowing palms and settle into the hidden inlet. Once everything has been settled and a 24 hour watch has been established, most of the crew heads below deck to sleep.

The next few days are an excruciating exercise in patience. They have no idea when the _Ace_ will return to Isla de las Vegas, although Jack insists that it will not be long – a month or less. It’s like a more stressful, secluded form of shore leave. The boys pass the time playing dice or cards, or when that gets too tedious, renewing their puerile debates. Bitty gets Shitty to join him on a brief expedition around the island, exploring the entire perimeter in just a few hours and returning with armloads of fresh fruit.

“It's times like this I miss stress baking,” Bitty tells him. “Can you imagine what I could make with these beautiful mangos?”

Throughout it all, Jack manages to keep a level head, but Bitty knows how anxious he must feel under the surface. The waiting is driving them all a little crazy. Jack pushes Bitty especially hard in their sword practices. By the end of each session, both of them are out of breath and dripping in sweat despite the fact that the sun is still low in the sky. Sometimes, when Jack seems especially anxious, Bitty even gets the others to spar with him in the afternoon, too. Jack and Chowder gain a crowd of spectators one evening by carrying out an entire fight while swinging from the rigging without touching the deck once. It's an incredible display of strength and athleticism, and if Bitty has to excuse himself below deck for some alone time to cool off, well no one has to know.

At night, they all sit together under the lights of the Strip, the glow of the lights and the enjoyment of each other’s company just barely distracting them from the seemingly endless waiting looming over their heads.

***

The cycle continues for another two weeks before anything changes.

“Uh, Captain, I think I see something,” Shitty calls from the crow’s nest, the only place high enough to peek through the tree cover hiding their ship.

Jack comes rushing to the bottom of the mast. “What is it?”

Shitty pulls out a telescope and looks out over the trees. “It’s definitely a ship, but it's still too far to tell who it is,” he yells down to the growing group on the deck.

Jack climbs up to check it out for himself. “It's him,” he says gravely. “It's Parse.” He slides halfway down the rope ladder and addresses the crew from above.

“I want everyone ready for battle. Holster, make sure all the cannons are aimed and loaded. If they spot you, you have permission to fire, but we will not initiate. If we can get out of here with no casualties and no shots fired, then I will consider this a success.”

“But Captain—” someone shouts.

“No buts! I fairly confident we could take down the _Ace_ in battle, but let's not have to find out.” There's a grumble of agreement from the crew. Jack continues. “A few of us will go on land and corner Parson alone to get what we need and use him as leverage to make our exit. Understood?”

“Aye, aye,” the crew choruses in unison.

“Alright then. Get to work!”

The crew disperses and prepares for a battle that may or may not happen. They watch holding their collective breath as the _Ace_ sails into the bay and… doesn't see them.

“Makes sense,” Holster says. “If someone wanted the treasure, they would just take it and go. If they wanted to fight, they would be out in the bay for better attack lanes and escape paths. The last thing they're expecting is for us to hide and wait.”

“Exactly,” Jack says. They watch as the ship docks and Parson steps off – noticeable from a distance due to his jaunty tricorner hat – with another sailor holding a treasure chest. The two pirates walk to the center of the ridge and disappear inside a narrow crack in the rock wall. “Okay, Bittle, Shitty, let's go.”

The three of them sneak off the _Falconer_ , following Kent’s path to the opening in the ridge. Amazingly, they remain out of sight and are able to sneak inside unnoticed.

The air is much cooler inside the ridge, enough so that Bitty shivers at the temperature change. They follow a narrow tunnel for a while before it widens abruptly, depositing them in a well-lit cavern.

Bitty nearly gasps, almost giving them away in an instant. The room is filled with more treasure than he has ever seen in one place. There are dozens of chests filled to the brim with gold, countless jewels and ornaments, even priceless art.

Parse and his large deckhand stand at the far end of the cavern with their backs to them. Bitty glances over at Jack, whose hands are shaking, but he seems resolute. When he steps forward to address Parson, his voice doesn't waver.

“Nice place you got here, Parse,” he says. The two pirates whip around to face them, immediately drawing their swords.

“Zimms?” Kent looks at Jack with a combination of shock, anger and… relief? “I heard your ship was blasted away by the Royal Navy.”

“Wouldn't be the first time I survived a sinking ship.”

Kent stares at him, then surprisingly, he laughs bitterly. “As long as you aren't here to haunt me from Davy Jones’ locker.” He gestures at his deckhand, who guardedly lowers his sword, then steps closer to Jack, wearing a smile that has more in common with a wolf’s teeth than any genuine expression of happiness. “How did you get here?”

“In a ship,” Jack replies, taking his own small steps closer.

“Which ship?”

“My ship.”

Kent rolls his eyes. “Don't be difficult, Zimms. I’m asking as a friend.” They're face to face now, just a few feet between them. Jack doesn't look happy, but he does looks like his whole world has shrunk down to Parson. Watching them together fills Bitty’s stomach with ice.

“If we were really friends, you wouldn't have told the Navy where I was on Tortuga.”

Kent’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t deny it. “I didn't do it on purpose. I didn’t even say anything. They keep tabs on me, so they must have found out I talked to you. It was accident.”

“An accident you did nothing to stop. You could have warned me.” They circle each other like lions waiting to pounce. Bitty fiddles with the hilt of his sword, ready to draw at any moment. When he looks at Shitty, he can see his hand on his pistol.

“I can't help that I have an understanding with them,” Parse continues. “If I stay out of their way, they stay out of mine.”

“You're something else, Parse. I remember when loyalty used to matter to you.”

“Loyalty doesn't make you rich.”

The tension swirls heavy between them, spreading out like a fog to the rest of the room. Bitty holds his breath, wondering who will be the one to make it burst.

“Why are you here?” Kent asks finally.

“I’m here for the compass.”

Parson cackles in response. “And you think I'm just going to give it to you?”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “I’m asking as a friend.”

“If we were really friends, you wouldn't come up with such dumb ideas.”

The look Jack gives him transmits just how fed up he is with Parse’s sarcasm. “I have a deal for you. Just like old times. One on one, swords only. No pistols. Whoever draws first blood gets the compass.”

“Most people would just try to kill me and take it out of my cold, dead pockets,” Kent says with a smirk.

Jack lets out a longsuffering sigh. “Come on, Kenny. I don't want to kill you,” he says. “But I will if I had to. You're outnumbered here three to two. Just accept the terms, so we don't have to invoke plan B.”

Kent looks at Jack, then at his deckhand. He nods at the large man, but instead of stepping farther away, the pirate lifts his sword and lunges at his closest opponent: Bitty.

Bitty easily ducks the first strike and parries the second. Even though his attacker is nearly twice his size, Bitty holds his own. Their swords clank together quickly until he manages to block a huge swing. The other pirate tries to use his brute force to overpower him and break the block, but Bitty has a trick up his sleeve.

He leverages his assailant’s strength and leaps off the ground, spinning his legs around in a cross between a pirouette and a roundhouse kick. He hits the man right in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. As he drops to his knees coughing, Bitty lands gracefully and brings the hilt of his sword down between the man’s shoulder blades. The force of it causes him to drop his sword, and Bitty kicks it away over towards Shitty.

“How was that for a taste of the old Bittle Spinorama?”

Shitty picks up the discarded sword and walks over behind the pirate, holding his pistol up to the man’s head. He turns to Jack. “You were saying?”

Parse glares at them, clearly frustrated, like a wild animal backed against a wall. “Come on, Parse,” Jack begs. “One on one’s a fair offer, unless, of course, you think you can't beat me.”

“Of course I can beat you,” Kent sneers.

“Then prove it.” Jack draws his sword and points it at Parson. Parse glares at him with stony eyes before finally raising his sword as well.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

“Good. I don't want you to.”

They start circling each other again, slowly shifting closer with each pass, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Just when the tension begins to feel like too much, even from Bitty’s vantage point on the side, Jack attacks, swinging his sword with a flourish, meant more to distract than to land. Kent responds immediately with a rush of strikes, all of which Jack blocks deftly. As they fight, their swords create a dangerously beautiful symphony of clangs and clanks.

Bitty is very familiar with Jack’s style of fighting and is, as always, impressed with his masterful work with the sword, but he is equally awed by Parson. His clever footwork makes up for what he lacks in strength and height compared to Jack. Some things he does are similar to techniques Jack has taught Bitty – he wonders whether he taught them to Kent or learned them from him – but Parse has them mastered. Bitty watches breathlessly as they dance around the cavern, swinging, ducking and whirling around each other’s blade.

Although their styles are different, it's clear that they are evenly matched. Neither fighter gives up ground for more than a few seconds, both men rallying back with every swing of the sword. They make use of the entire space, pushing off walls and spinning around stone pillars.

Parse even uses the treasure lying about to his advantage, lifting up pieces with his free hand and hurling them in Jack’s direction. Jack blocks every blow, but it's often enough to get him off balance and for Parse to slip away. At the same time, Jack’s power and force are hard to overcome. He twirls his sword like a toothpick, assailing Kent from every possible angle.

Watching them fight is dizzying, and it leaves Bitty’s heart racing. The air crackles between them, and even as they come at each other forcefully and relentlessly, it's almost as if they're reading each other's every move – a never-ending choreographed dance between equals.

Bitty wants to step in, to help somehow, but he knows Jack would never forgive him, and besides, he's not sure he could jump in without losing a limb in the scuffle.

Jack lunges at Parse, who blocks him with series of swings before twisting out of the way and over to the side. As Jack stalks toward him, he flips over and unloads a treasure chest full of gold doubloons. The coins clatter out onto the floor, momentarily stopping Jack in his tracks as they roll and spin around his feet. Parse uses the brief disruption to reset on the other side of the empty space in the center of the cavern.

Without missing a beat, he jumps back at it, attacking with fierce, swift blows. Jack just barely manages to block in time, and for the first time since they started, he almost seems visibly overwhelmed. He parries strike after strike as Parse pushes him back towards a chasm at the farthest end of the cavern. He can't even spare a glance behind him as Parse’s blows keep coming.

“Look out!” Bitty shouts as he gets dangerously close to the edge.

The scream echoes as both opponents experience a half-second hitch in their step. Kent recovers and takes a large step forward, Jack’s eyes widening as he finds himself backing up towards the steep edge. Kent leaps towards him with a two-handed swing, chopping out towards his cornered target with no more room for retreat

Everything shifts in an instant.

As he strikes out, Parse’s foot slips on an errant gold coin. Instead of lunging forward, he jerks back, his leg slipping out from under him. Jack raises his sword to block a swing that doesn’t come. Kent jerks forward in an attempt to regain his balance, but he’s already falling backwards. As he does, his arm swings up wildly, just barely missing Jack’s unchecked block.

Or at least, that’s what Bitty thought. Parse tumbles to the ground, his left hand breaking his fall, his sword hand flung back against the ground. He lifts his right forearm, and they all watch as a small line of blood appears on the underside of his arm, halfway between his elbow and his wrist. It’s hardly a cut, but it’s enough.

Jack steps forward, towering over him. He points his sword at Parse’s chest. “You lose, Parse. 91-89.”

“Fuck you. It’s 90-90.”

“You can’t change your score retroactively,” Jack admonishes.

“It’s not my fault you have a bad memory,” Parse retorts, his hand twitching on his sword.

Jack points his sword a little closer to Parse’s neck. “Either way, I won. Drop the sword and give me the compass. I know you have it on you.” Neither of them breaks eye contact as Kent sets the sword down next to him and reaches into his pocket. Jack is so focused on his hands, he doesn't see his feet.

It happens so quickly that Bitty’s mind barely has time to process it. One second, Jack is looming over Kent, about to claim the compass. The next, he is sprawled out on his back, his legs kicked out from under him. Kent scrambles to his feet, his recovered sword now centimeters away from Jack’s throat.

“That's against the rules, Kenny,” says Jack, chest heaving.

Kent smirks. “Pirates don't follow rules, Zimms, but you would know that if you weren't such a fuck up.”

Before he knows what he's doing, Bitty is behind Parson, his blade a hair’s breadth away from his neck.

“You will not speak to him like that,” Bitty hisses, grabbing his free arm and manhandling it behind him.

Parse lets out a small whispered, “Fuck.”

“Drop your sword, Parson, or else,” Bitty hisses. “Jack might not want to kill you, but lord, I swear, I will not hesitate.”

A second later, Kent drops his sword with a clatter. Jack picks it up and leaps to his feet.

“Shitty, did you bring rope?” Jack asks.

In response, Shitty pulls out two rough cords and immediately begins tying the hands of the other deckhand kneeling on the ground. Once he's done, Bitty moves around from behind Parson to let Shitty tie his hands behind his back as well.

“You know if my hands are tied I won’t be able to get the compass out,” Kent taunts.

“Where is it?” asks Jack.

Parse just shrugs, smirking as Jack reaches into his left pocket and then his right.

“Be gentle, Zimms. You know that’s how I like it.” There is not much space between them as Jack fishes out the compass. For all that it’s harsh, it’s also surprisingly intimate. Bitty has to look away. When he looks back, Jack is examining the compass while Parse examines Jack. “So that’s it? You leave us here and go off on your merry way?”

“Not quite. We send your man here to tell your crew to give our ship safe passage out of the harbor. Once we’ve cleared out, then we let you go back to your ship. No one shoots; no one dies. Shits, Bits, you ready to go.”

“Aye, Captain,” Bitty replies. When he looks over at Shitty though, he’s carrying a silver bucket filled to the brim with gemstones the size of peaches.

“What is that?” Jack asks, baffled.

“The Calder jewels, man. Couldn’t have the boys thinking we came all this way just for a tiny compass.”

***

The three of them lead Parson and his deckhand back out toward the harbor. Jack and Bitty have their swords pointed at Parson, while Shitty points his pistol at the deckhand. They stop walking once they are in sight of the _Ace_.

Jack pulls Kent to him by the collar. “Alright, Parse. Remember, we go free, you go free. Make sure your matey here understands the plan.”

Parse sighs and looks up at Jack. “You know what, Zimms? Fuck it. I don’t want you dead, and you don’t want to kill me. You can go this time. I won’t follow you. You and your crew can make your getaway. We both know this is far from the last time we’ll see each other. Next time, you won’t win so easily.”

“Beating you is never easy,” Jack admits begrudgingly, letting go of his shirt and stepping back.

“What a compliment. Thanks for that confidence boost,” says Parse, rolling his eyes. “Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but I mean it. You won this round. Take the compass and use it wisely. And quickly. I’ll be stealing it back here before you know it.” He smirks, but there’s something in his expression that seems sincere.

Jack’s lips quirk upwards in response. “That’s what you think.”

Kent turns his attention to his deckhand. “Alright, Westy, go tell the boys to let Captain Zimmermann’s ship through. Let’s not cause any trouble… today, at least.”

The man nods, and Bitty unties the knots behind his hands, Shitty’s pistol still raised at his temple in precaution. He takes a few steps forward, then starts running toward the _Ace._

Not long afterwards, they all watch as a white flag is raised on the ship. “Just so you know, that’s a sign of truce, not a sign of surrender,” Kent insists. “You boys should be safe to go now.”

“Shitty, go back and ready the crew for launch.”

“Sure thing, Cap.”

As Shitty leaves, Jack turns back to Kent. “I really don’t want to have to push you overboard with a life preserver to make sure we get out of here safely.”

“I’m telling you, I’m not going to do anything to stop you. Once your ship gets close to the dock, you can get on and I’ll go back to my ship and leave you alone.”

“I don’t trust him, Captain,” Bitty interjects.

“As you shouldn’t,” Kent replies, which is not at all the response Bitty was expecting. “But Zimms and I go way back. He’s no good to me dead. I’m sick of sharing the seas with all these other lousy excuses for pirates, and at least Jack knows what he’s doing. You gotta beat the best to be the best, right, Zimms? So one of these days, I’ll show you who the best is.”

“You don’t need to go through the trouble, I already know it’s me,” Jack chirps.

It’s shocking for Bitty to watch. Not long ago, these two were at each other’s throats, poised to kill one another. Now they’re cracking jokes like old friends. His father used to say, _Keep your friends close and your enemies closer_ , but he’s not sure he really understood it until now.

Finally, after a long awkward wait, the _Falconer_ sails up to the dock by where they are. Bitty climbs back onto the ship and watches as Jack and Parse have a final conversation. He can’t make out what they are saying, but at least Jack’s hands are steady.

After a few minutes, Jack turns away and returns onto the ship as well. Parse nods at them as they exit the harbor, sailing past the _Ace_ and back into the open water.

As they sail away, navigating the tricky current back out to sea, Lardo comes up to Jack. “Did you find what you needed, Captain?”

Jack looks at Shitty, then at Bitty, allowing himself a small smile. “Yes, I think I did.” He pulls the compass out of his pocket and rubs his fingers on the face of it. Bitty’s heart flutters at the sight of Jack’s expression of relief and hope. He realizes in that moment that he would do just about anything if he could make Jack look like that every day.  

 “Looks like we’re heading north,” Jack says, allowing himself a small smile. Bitty couldn't hide his grin for all the gold in the world.

“Stanley Cup, here we come.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say "ahoy" to me on twitter: [@Chocoholic2_](https://twitter.com/Chocoholic2_)!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the longest thing I have ever completed, and I am both shocked and proud, but I never would have been able to do it without the feedback and cheerleading from my kickass betas, [BakedHam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BakedHam/pseuds/BakedHam) and [BaegentWashington](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanTheFreewoodGuy/pseuds/BaegentWashington). You took a chance on me and I appreciate it so much!
> 
> I also could not have done it without each and every one of you who left kudos, comments, support and kind messages. Seriously. There were times I wanted to just put this on the backburner and forget about it, but you all kept me going. I'm so delighted to deliver this to you all!!
> 
> Check, Please! has truly changed my life for the better, not just from the amazing comic and canon provided to us by the wonderful Ngozi, but by providing me with a creative outlet when I needed it most. Working on this has helped me get through some major transitions in my life, and I am happy to say I am in a better place now than when I started! Yay! So thanks to this delightful fandom community! I love you, brahs!

With an opportune wind at their back, Jack follows the direction of the compass and unleashes the full speed of the _Falconer_ towards the Cup. It’s a little strange because most of the crew are on a need-to-know basis when it comes to the exact details of how they have determined their course. From what Bitty can tell from the ship’s gossip, most of them believe Jack either threatened the information out of Kent, or else he stole a treasure map. Regardless of how they think he got his information, the boys also have their eyes on the prize, and every one of them seems dedicated to reaching their destination – wherever that may be – as quickly as possible.

They've been sailing for a few weeks along the eastern seaboard, only stopping to raid passing merchant ships when supplies are low. The strangest part is how Jack is willing to ignore the other ships in favor of his single-minded mission. Usually a raid is his idea of a good time. Now he just paces the ship with his compass, checking it with an anxious frequency, looking for any miniscule change in direction.

Bitty seems to be the only one who can get him to stand still for more than a few minutes. Lardo was the one who pointed it out to him first. Once he’s aware of it, Bitty starts spending his downtime – well, more of his downtime than usual – with the captain. He notices that Jack doesn’t seem so fidgety if Bitty goes on his rounds with him. He still checks the compass a lot, but reasonably so. It even gets to the point where Jack starts seeking him out when Bitty’s on duty. It’s sort of strange, and Bitty’s pretty sure that Jack isn’t even aware that he’s doing it, but he’s not complaining. Jack is surprisingly easy to talk to, and a lot of the time it’s enough to distract Bitty from his own concerns

The anxiety gets worse in the quiet moments. Every time he closes his eyes after a long shift of going full speed toward the Cup, Bitty’s mind floats against his will to thinking about what will happen when they finally get there. It’s not a matter of _if_ , but _when_ Jack will find the Cup and make a wish to find out what happened to his parents. The way Bitty sees it, there's three possible outcomes.

The first is what he has taken to calling the “Best Case Scenario” in his head. In the “Best Case,” Jack discovers his parents are still alive and well, only that they are retired somewhere on land where they can live a quiet, easy life. It's the option Bitty likes best because Jack happy to see them again, but he won't be tempted to leave and join them. He would never be satisfied anywhere but on a ship. So Jack remains captain, Bitty stays on his crew, and very little has to change. Maybe one day, when Jack’s old and weary, he can retire there too. Maybe Bitty can go with him and open up a small bakery like his family’s. Even if there can never be anything between them, he can stay close to Jack for the rest of their days. It's a comforting, if unlikely, vision.

The next option is the “Worst Case Scenario.” It’s the one where Jack discovers that his nightmares are true and that his parents have died, either in the shipwreck or at some point in the following years. Bitty is not sure exactly how Jack would take the news, although he guesses he would be devastated. Although, there is a chance he would find some much needed closure after all these years of uncertainty. Maybe he would close off or break down, void of the hope that might have kept the grief and anxiety at bay. He might just need a shoulder to cry on, which Bitty would be more than willing to provide… However, with any of those cases, it's still true that even if he were hurting, Jack would remain on the ship, near Bitty.

Thinking about the third and final scenario fills Bitty with guilt, because even though he knows it's the true best case situation for Jack, he can't help but dread it. It’s the one where Bad Bob Zimmermann is still alive and terrorizing the seas, and Jack goes and joins him, achieving his greatest dream of sailing alongside his parents. He’d leave the _Falconer_ , which truth be told, would not be a devastating blow. Lardo was the one who said that many crew members would be more than capable of leading them as captain. Maybe Ransom and Holster could even share the duties. The ship would survive; Jack would be thrilled. It's only Bitty who would not be fine. He would have to say goodbye to the person who has come to mean the most to him in the world and pretend to be happy about it. He's not sure he could survive the heartbreak.

Bitty would do anything for Jack, including sacrificing his own life, and would move mountains to make him happy, but the thought of losing him in any way – even to another ship – weighs on him deeply. He tries to put it out of his mind, reminding himself there's no point worrying about any of it until they find the Cup in the first place. It helps, sometimes.

***

“How will we know when we’re close?” Bitty asks at dinner one night.

“We won't,” Jack admits, looking up from a half-eaten hardtack biscuit. “That's the downside of the compass.”

Bitty fakes an exasperated huff. “Couldn’t you have gotten a magic map instead that told us exactly where the Cup is? ‘X’ marks the spot and boom, that's where we go. This compass business is too much.”

Jack smirks fondly. “You don't want it to be too easy, Bittle. Then anybody could find it. The Stanley Cup isn't the sort of thing you want to fall in the wrong hands.”

“Speaking of which…” Bitty kicks his legs out nervously where he’s sitting on a barrel. “Are you worried about Cutthroat Kent following us?”

“No,” Jack says with a definitive note. “He's going to let us be for now. I think it's his way of apologizing for being such a dick.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just have a feeling. I could be totally wrong, but we talked a bit, and I think he's sincere.”

Bitty gives him a sharp look. “I may not have known him as long as you have, but it seems to me that sincere and Kent Parson are not two things that go together.”

Jack sighs, but he doesn't disagree. “Kent is always going to be a part of my life. But I think we both finally realized that our feelings weren't exactly what they were before. He was my first friend. My only friend. And that means something. But he's not my only friend anymore, and I'm not his.” He probably isn't even aware that he's doing it, but Jack takes out the compass and starts flipping between his fingers. “Maybe one day, we can be friends again,” he says, looking at Bitty. “But either way, I also don't think we make very good enemies.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Bitty concedes. “I still don't like him though,” he says with a pout.

Jack laughs, elbowing Bitty’s arm. “You're a good friend, Bittle. Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

He opens up the compass and reads the bearing. However, instead of stowing it back in his pocket, he frowns, his brow furrowing. Jack pulls out another compass – a normal one, Bitty determines – and compares the two of them.

“What is it?” Bitty asks.

“We’re veering,” Jack says, both serious and excited. “We’ve been clearly heading north for a while now, but now it's definitely more northwest.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we’re getting closer.”

Bitty feels an involuntary swoop of excitement at the thought. Everyone on the crew starts to feed on the energy as they start sailing closer and closer to the mainland. As difficult as it is for all of them to slow down when they seem to be so close, Jack orders them to halt the breakneck speed at which they’ve sailing in order to slow to investigatory crawl.

The air is charged on the ship, as if there were an impending thunderstorm. Jack stands tall at the helm like a sentinel, calling out coordinates and directional changes.

The mainland is already in sight, when it finally happens.

“Pull to the port side!” Jack shouts, rushing to the rail. They had been sailing alongside a small island, or more accurately, a mound of rocks barely large enough to warrant being marked down on a map. Bitty and the crew rush to pull the sails and turn the ship off the course toward the port and instead follow the sharp curve of the tiny isle.

“Keep steady and hold your bearing!” Jack shouts, looking excitedly from the compass to the island and then back again. “Don't stop turning until I give the word.”

They guide the ship around the island, not even stopping when they start backtracking. “We’re going in circles, Captain!” Shitty shouts at him. “What gives?”

“I just needed to be sure,” Jack shouts back, leaping over to where Shitty is tugging on the rigging. “The compass keeps spinning and pointing over there as we turn. The Cup must be over there. On that tiny island.”

“Fucking seriously?” Shitty whoops, releasing the rope he's holding in shock, quickly picking it back up when the yardarm lurches. “Holy shit, man. What are you waiting for? Give the order and let's do this thing!”

Jack begins directing the crew to prepare to drop anchor and send a landing party down to a beach on the eastern side of the island.

The crew readies a few rowboats filled with everything from shovels to pistols, unsure of what they will have to face when they hit land.

Bitty holds back to make sure he's on the same boat as Jack. He doesn't really have a reason for it except for the fact that he wants to be near Jack, but Jack is already saving him a spot.

“You ready, Bittle?” Jack asks climbing into the longboat, full of roguish excitement.

“I was born ready.” His answer makes Jack laugh, which Bitty chalks up as a win.

They row to the beach and pull the boats up past the waterline and up towards an outcropping of rocks. As they're stowing the boats, Jack pulls out his compass.

“I think we need to head through there,” he says, looking right into the mouth of a cave formed by the rocks.

“Of course. Straight into the creepy tunnel,” says Lardo, a shovel cocked on her shoulder.

“I was sort of hoping the Stanley Cup would just be chilling out here waiting for us,” Holster says, only most joking.

“Unfortunately, no,” Jack replies. He pulls out his sword and heads right for the opening. “I'll lead the way. Anyone who wants to stay here and look over the boats can do so.”

Shitty laughs. “Fat chance. If we wanted to come all this way and miss seeing the Cup, we would have stayed on the ship.” He strides up to Jack, clapping him on the back. “I'm with you, bro.”

“Me too!” Bitty cries, joining Jack and Shitty. The rest of the group follows suit and gathers around Jack.

Lardo reminds them all who the smartest member of the crew is when she pulls a piece of flint from her pocket and quickly fashions them a handful of torches from some nearby fallen branches. Armed with both weapons and firelight, Jack leads the way into the tunnel, the rest of their party filing in behind him.

“We know it can't go very far,” Jack reassures them as they go deeper into the dark. “The island isn't very big.”

“Doesn't make it any less creepy,” Bitty replies, clutching his torch.

“Don't worry, Bittle. I'll protect you,” Jack chirps, but there's something soft about it, and Bitty’s heart flutters.

“What about the rest of us?” Shitty asks.

“You guys are on your own,” says Jack, deadpan.

They walk deeper into the tunnel for about ten minutes, the pathway snaking further into the cave. The stalactites look menacing in the shadows of the torches, but they continue onward. Nursey, pulling up the rear of the group, begins to whistle a sea shanty, which actually helps a bit. Bitty hears Dex’s familiar groan, but even he doesn't stop him.

Suddenly, Jack throws out an arm, stopping them all in their path. Slowly, they tiptoe around a rocky curve, only to find themselves in an open cavern.

There's a relay of gasps as each member of the group turns the corner.        

Sitting in the middle of the cavern, illuminated by a beam of sunlight shining through a breach in the roof, is a towering silver chalice.

The Stanley Cup.

No one moves until finally Jack takes a step forward. He walks as if in slow motion until he's close enough to touch. He reaches out slowly, fingers trembling, and places his hand on the gleaming metal.

As soon as he touches it, the rest of them explode into screams and cheers. Jack himself turns around, beaming brighter than Bitty has ever seen before. After that, no one hesitates; they all rush to his side, torches dropped and forgotten on the stony ground.

They form an elated mob around the Cup, hugging and cheering. Bitty is soaring. He’s even crying a little. It almost feels too easy, but when he considers what they've gone through to get this far, he thinks that maybe they deserve to catch a break. After months at sea, of searching and fighting and battling for their lives, they finally have it. 

“ _We did it! We found it!”_

_“I can't believe it! It's so beautiful!”_

_“We got the fucking Stanley Cup!!’_

Amid the squealing and shouting and hugging and dancing, Bitty wipes his eyes on the front Jack’s shirt. Lardo shakes Shitty shoulders, eyes wild with incredulous excitement. They crowd around Jack in a loud mass, all trying to get a hand on the Cup, until Jack finally has to push them away to make a space.

He looks Bitty directly in the eye as he picks up the tall trophy by the lip at the bottom and the chalice at the top. Bitty meets his eye, drinking in the pure expression of joy on Jack’s face. He continues watching as Jack raises the Cup above his head, closing his eyes tightly for a long moment – presumably to make his wish – before opening them up, looking around at the men and roaring triumphantly.

“We did it, boys!”

They all erupt into cheers again, and Bitty is so proud to be part of this crew. Without every single person here, and all of those still on the ship, they would not be standing there watching their captain holding the most sought after treasure on the seven seas. After all that Jack has given them – Bitty in particular – it feels incredible to give him this.

Jack finally lowers the Cup and passes it around to the rest of the guys. Some of them also lift it into the air; some kiss it. Ransom and Holster try to shove Bitty into the Cup, but he's definitely too big, and luckily Nursey and Dex manage to help him escape.

The Cup makes its rounds as giddy laughter echoes around the cave. Finally, it finds its way back to Jack, who picks it up and says, “Alright, let’s bring this bad boy back to the ship!”

The men cheer as Lardo makes her way around to relight their torches. They parade their way back through the winding tunnels, out of the cave and back to the beach.

***

Bitty raises his hand to block the blinding light of the sun as his eyes adjust to the brightness of the day compared to the dim firelit tunnels of the cave. The crew stumbles onto the beach, still in a state of giddy shock. Every few minutes, someone will start giggling or will mutter in disbelief under their breath. Bitty hasn't stopped grinning since Jack lifted the Cup above his head. His cheeks are starting to hurt, and he doesn't even care.

Shifty whoops and grabs Lardo by the hands, swinging her around, shouting, “We got the motherfuckin’ Cup!” He puts her down and immediately does the same thing to an unsuspecting Chowder. They are practically drunk with glee.

Bitty looks over at Jack, who is still clutching the Cup as if his life depends on it, only he's not smiling anymore. His jaw is slack, and his eyes are broadcasting his shock to the moon and back. Bitty follows his line of vision past the beach and out into the water. When he sees it, his smile disappears too.

Sitting not far from the _Providence_ is another ship, a smaller, one-masted vessel. Bitty’s eyes fixate on the black flag waving from the mast, adorned with a skull and two crossed swords: a French saber and a Japanese katana.

Jack takes a few dazed steps forward, his boots sinking lightly into the sand.

Bitty moves next to him, brushing his arm gently. “Is that—”

“I think so,” Jack answers immediately. “What do I—”

“You have to go over there.”

He shakes his head. “It worked so fast. It hasn't even been half an hour since I lifted the Cup.”

“Aye, but you've been working at this for years. That has to count for something.”

“Yeah…”

“Come on, Captain. Grab one of the dinghies and get your butt over there.” He shoves Jack in the direction of the rowboats.  

“You're coming with me, right?”

 “Oh! Well I hadn't really thought about it, but maybe—”

“Please? I'll need someone to take the boat back.”

Bitty’s face falls for a split second, before he puts on his biggest smile. “Oh right. Of course I'll go with you,” he says, walking with Jack towards the boats. Of course Jack would need someone to take the boat back, because Jack will not be coming back...

Lardo intercepts him halfway down the beach. She pulls him a few feet away and speaks in a rushed whisper. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yep,” Bitty replies, smiling and hoping she doesn't notice him fighting back tears. He's going to keep it together; he has to.

“He's going over there, right?”

“Yeah. I'm going to go with him, make sure he doesn't run off with one of our longboats.”

Lardo sighs. “Bits.”

A few feet up, they hear Jack shouting orders at Ransom and Holster. “Take the Cup back to the ship. Put it on the desk in my cabin.”

“Aye, aye,” they respond in unison, taking the Cup from Jack with huge, gleeful grins.

Lardo turns back to Bitty. “Do you think he's coming back?”

That's the question that has been plaguing Bitty for weeks now. “I don't know,” he answers truthfully, choking back his sadness.

“Bittle, you coming?” Jack calls from down by the water. He's already pushing the rowboat down to where the waves are washing up onto the sand.

“I'll be there in two shakes!” he calls back. He turns once more to Lardo. “What do I do if he doesn't come back with me?”

“We’ll figure it out,” she says, punching him amiably on the arm. “Now go on. You gotta get over there and tell me if Bad Bob is really as terrifying as they say he is. And be careful in case it's some sort of trap.”

Bitty hadn't thought about that possibility, so swept up in his focus on Jack, the Cup and its magical properties. He definitely couldn't let Jack go off onto some strange ship by himself if there was any chance of a hostile enemy trap.

“I will. And I’ll be back before sundown.” He hugs Lardo quickly and runs down the beach to where Jack is waiting. Together they push the boat into the water, jump in and begin rowing toward the second ship.

Jack doesn't talk, and Bitty doesn't know what to say. All he can do is try to match the wild, desperate pace of Jack’s oars. Eventually he just stops and lets Jack do the brunt of the work. He turns around and sits facing Jack. “I'm just holding you back anyway,” he says when Jack gives him a questioning look. “I'm not helping you at all.”

“You always help me,” Jack replies. “I wouldn't even be here without you.”

Bitty tries to brush it off. “I'm sure you could have rowed over here just fine on your own,” he jokes.

“You know what I meant.”

Jack looks at him with the full intensity of his gaze, almost painfully blue in the bright sunlight, and Bitty can't breathe. “Yes,” he admits. “But I wouldn't be here without you either.”

“We make a good team,” Jack says with a smile, returning most his attention back to his oars. _But for how much longer_ , Bitty wonders tapping nervously on his oar.

They arrive at the side of the ship and immediately someone up on the deck throws down a rope ladder. Bitty ties off the boat to a hook in the hull, and then they both climb aboard.

They are met by a handful of sailors, but they are immediately pushed out of the way as a tall, blonde woman makes her way over. She's older, but still gorgeous, and there's something familiar about her eyes…

“Jack,” she says quietly, but full of emotion. Bitty watches as she gathers Jack in her arms, hugging him tightly. Jack squeezes back. Even though he’s taller, broader, he tries to shrink himself to fit better in her arms, while she tries to grow, to wrap as much of him up in her embrace as she can.

“Mom,” he whispers, nuzzling his head on her shoulder. Neither one of them seems in a hurry to let go. She's finally the one to do it, pulling away and patting Jack fondly on the jaw. Jack smiles at her until he sees something over her shoulder, and his expression changes.

“Papa.”

Bitty immediately turns to see where Jack is looking and audibly gasps. It's like looking through a window into the future. The man standing before them looks just like Jack, or at least, Jack if he were 20 years older or so.

Bad Bob Zimmermann walks over, meeting Jacks shocked expression with a dazzling smile. He puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder, and Jack returns the gesture for a long moment before Bad Bob pulls him in for a warm bear hug.

“I never thought I'd see you again,” Jack mutters, his voice raspy with emotion.

Bad Bob replies in another language – French, if Bitty is hearing right – and no one is crying, but it's close, including for Bitty himself.

He shuffles his feet nervously, not really sure what he should be doing. He definitely doesn't want to interrupt this important moment and ruin Jacks hard-fought reunion, but he's also not really sure if he should stay or go. Jack made it to the ship – it's obviously not a trap – and now he can live happily ever after living out his destiny sailing alongside his father like he’s been dreaming of for years. Bitty should go back to the _Falconer_ before it truly sinks in that he might never see Jack again, but he’s also not ready to leave, not yet.

Before he has a chance to move or say anything, Jack's mother speaks up. “Jack, aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?’

“Oh!” Jack pulls away from his father and moves back to Bitty. He places a hand on the space between Bitty’s shoulder blades and pushes him a few feet forward. “This is Bittle. He's an officer on my ship.”

Both of Jack’s parents shake his hand warmly. “I'm Alicia, and this is Bob,” his mom says.

Bitty replies, “It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard so much about you from Jack.”

“A friend of Jack’s is a friend of ours,” Bob replies. “So what do you do? Are you quartermaster? First mate?”

Bitty blushes, unable to meet the eyes of _Bad Bob Zimmermann,_ only the most famous pirate of their time, when he manages to stammer out, “I'm—I’m the galley manager.” To his credit, Bad Bob doesn't miss a beat and seems completely sincere when he says, “That's great, son.” However, he does turn to Jack and says something to him in French that makes _Jack_ blush. Jack responds – also in French – and the only word Bitty can pick out is his own name.

“Well, I think this is cause for celebration!” Alicia interrupts. “We still have that champagne from France that we’ve been saving for a special occasion, right Bobby?” Bitty recognizes the words, but it's all so surreal that he's not sure he's understanding properly or that he's even still awake. Did Jack’s mom really just call a pirate legend “ _Bobby_?”

She continues even as Bitty head reels. “Bittle, you have to stay and join us for a glass. I want to hear all about the mischief Jack has gotten himself into these past few years.” She doesn't bother waiting for a response, but instead takes Bitty by the arm and leads him into the captain’s quarters with Bad Bob escorting Jack in behind them.

“Jack never gets into mischief,” Bitty manages to say, sitting down at a round table as Alicia starts digging around on a nearby shelf.

“That's not what I've heard,” says Bob, sitting down across from Bitty with Jack at his right. The rumors have been flying around about you and your crew, Jack.”

“They're probably all exaggerated,” Jack mumbles.

“So you didn't take down a Navy admiral and then survive a shipwreck in the counterattack?” asks Bob, smirking.

Jack scratches the back of his head. “Well, that one's true.”

“And you’ve never freed an entire ship of slaves or overtook three ships at once?” asks Alicia, joining them at the table with a bottle and four glasses. Bitty watches as these two pirates chirp Jack as if he were a kid.

“I guess those are true, too…” Jack grumbles. “Where are you getting your information?”

“Here and there,” Alicia insists, pouring them each a drink. Bitty thanks her, and she continues.

“It actually took us a while to put it all together. Half the time, your father was getting the credit for all these things. At first we thought it was the usual pirate tall tales, but once we realized it might be you – that you might be alive and sailing and pirating – we started working to get the information straight.”

“Do you know how much trouble you gave us by using my flag?” Bob jokes. “We were sailing in circles because we would ask about where you’d been and they would tell us rumors about ourselves.”

“You can't get mad at me!” Jack protests. “I had the same problem because people _still_ confuse me for you. I had to find the Stanley Cup to find you two.”

Bob and Alicia stop laughing. “You found the Cup?”

“Just today,” Jack says modestly.

“About an hour ago,” Bitty adds.

“Well shit,” Bob exclaims. “That's incredible.”

Jack continues. “I wished to find you guys, and then the next thing I know, there you are.”

“That's not really fair, though. The Cup shouldn't get all the credit. We worked hard to find you!”

“Yeah, but the odds of you showing up right then… That's too much of a coincidence to not be at least a little bit because of the Cup.”

“Maybe.”

The way they chirp each other is familiar, comfortable. They talk to each other as if no time has passed. Bitty also feels surprisingly at ease with the Zimmermanns, given that he's all but a stranger here. Jack’s parents are charming. He understands now why Jack would be willing to give up his ship and his captaincy to be with them, even if the understanding comes with an overwhelming sense of sadness.

In that moment, Bad Bob lifts his glass with one hand, his other hand resting fatherly on Jack’s shoulder. “Either way, we must toast! To the latest Zimmermann to find the Stanley Cup! Salut!”

“Salut!” they answer back, clinking their glasses. Bitty takes a large gulp as he tries to calm his nerves.

“So Jack, there's another story that we’ve caught wind of, but I've heard conflicting accounts,” says Alicia. “I’ve heard some tell that you and Kenny have been sailing together and have become even more of a treacherous twosome. But then I've also heard that he's got his own ship.”

It's Jack’s turn to take a large swig from his glass. “Kent does have his own ship. He's doing well for himself, but we’re not really… close… like we used to be.”

“That's a shame,” says Bad Bob. “He was a good kid. A good pirate.”

“Yeah,” Jack mutters, looking down into his glass as if it holds the secrets of the universe. Bitty tries not to break his own glass.

“If it wasn't Kent, then who is this battle partner you've teamed up with to terrorize the seven seas? I can't imagine that all of my information is bad.”

Jack’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Bitty. Bitty returns his shocked expression. “You don’t think…” Bitty trails off in disbelief.

“You _are_ my partner in battle,” Jack says, as if he’s coming to a realization. “Who else could it be if not you?” Then he chuckles, “I bet that Spanish captain had quite a bit to say about us.”

“Or that British privateer, the one with the glass eye,” Bitty adds smirking.

Jack looks at him proudly. “That was one of our better battles.”

“I can't believe they thought I was Parson,” Bitty complains. He's slightly impressed, but mostly just bitter.

“I can tell there's some bad blood there, so I'll drop it. But first I'll just say that even if half of the stories are true, then you must be a hell of a fighter,” Bob tells him.

Bitty can feel the blood rushing to his face. He stammers, “Thank you, Bab B—Uh. Oh. Mister Bad B—Ah. Um. Mister Jack’s Dad.”

“Please, just call me Bob,” Bob says with a grin, as Alicia chuckles next to him. Bitty blushes, but he can tell that they’re just chirping him now, not taunting. 

They sit around for a long time, laughing and swapping stories as they finish another bottle of French wine. Bitty most just sits and listens, but he shares a couple of his favorite Jack stories, to Jack's chagrin and his parents delight.

It's early evening by the time that Alicia stands, walking around the table to Jack. “I can't believe we've been hogging you this whole time. You must come meet the crew. You'll love them!” she exclaims.

It hits Bitty then that this is the end. They'd put it off with stories and wine, but now it was time for Jack to begin his transition to making this ship his new home. It's definitely not something that Bitty wants to stay around to watch.

They all get up and make their way back out to the deck. Jack’s parents leave to gather the crew, and Bitty is left alone with Jack – possibly for the last time.

“So…” Jack says. He looks so happy, his face transformed by his bright grin.

“Yeah, I can't believe it either,” Bitty finishes, coaxing a smile onto his own face. “Your parents seem wonderful.”

Jack nods. “I've really missed them.” He smiles down at Bitty. “I'm glad you came with me to meet them. I think they like you.”

“I’m glad I came too,” Bitty replies, and it's even somewhat true. There’s a pang of happiness intertwined with the other messy feelings in his chest knowing that he's left his mark on Jack’s parents. “Oh well. I guess that’s it, isn’t it?”

“…Yeah,” says Jack.

They look at each other for a moment too long until Bitty can’t help himself. He throws his arm around Jack’s neck and hugs him tightly. “Bye, Jack,” he whispers into Jack’s shoulder, because he knows if he says it any louder, he might cry.

“Bye, Bittle. It’s been great sailing with you,” Jack replies, hands awkwardly coming up to hug him back.

Bitty comes back down from his tiptoes, hands sliding down Jack’s arms. It’s most likely the last time he’s ever going to see Jack, so maybe now is the best time – the only time, really – to tell him how he feels. “…Jack, I… I…”

He can’t do it. He can’t throw a bomb like this and destroy Jack’s happiness, so he doesn’t say it. “I guess the next time I see you will be on the Most Wanted posters, huh?”

“What? Bittle, I’ll come find you guys when you have shore leave on Tortuga or something.”

“Oh, of course.”

 “Jack!” Alicia interrupts from across the deck. “Are you coming?”

He turns and yells back, “One second,” but Bitty doesn’t wait. He takes the opportunity to turn to the rope ladder leading back down to the rowboat, trying his hardest to hold in the tears prickling behind his eyes.

“Bittle?” Jack calls out, and Bitty forces on his best smile as he climbs over the rail.

“Bye, Jack!” he says, waving, before heading down to the boat.

As soon as he sits down, the tears are already falling. He unties the dinghy and starts rowing back toward the _Falconer,_ taking care to keep his head down in case Jack or anyone else is watching him leave.

By the time he gets back to his own ship, Bitty manages to dry his eyes though he still feels like he’s being dragged down underwater. Shitty offers him a hand as he climbs back onto the deck. “Where's Jack?” he asks.

Bitty shakes his head. “He's not coming back. He's gonna stay with the Zimmermanns.”

“What do you mean?” he replies, shocked to the point of outrage. “He's just going to ditch us like that?”

“You don't understand, Shitty. It was always his dream to sail with them. We can't be the ones to stand in the way of that.”

“Fuck that. His dream was to find the Stanley Cup and be a pirate captain. He’ll be back.”

Bitty doesn't trust his voice enough to respond. Shitty wasn't there to see how elated Jack looked being reunited with his parents, how thrilled he seemed to be to show Bitty the most important people in his life.

He manages to evade Shitty, who he trusts to pass the information on to Lardo and the rest of the crew. Facing them all with that news is far beyond what Bitty is capable of at the moment.

He's not sure why he does it, but Bitty ends up standing in front of Jack’s cabin – well, his former cabin. He stands in front of the door paralyzed for a few seconds before he manages to let himself in. The cabin doesn't have as many touches of Jack as his quarters back on the _Samwell_ , but it's clearly lived in and it's clearly Jack’s. The thought of someone else staying in there, taking over the captains responsibilities and trying to fill the gaping hole Jack will leave behind hits Bitty like a physical blow. He starts to sob, mourning their moments together and everything that might have been.

As he cries, he walks around the cabin, trying to commit to memory as much as he can: the handwritten navigation charts, covered in doodles of ships, swords, even the new flag design Bitty came up with. Hanging over a chair is the stately blue and gold coat, which still smells like Jack. Noticeably absent is the Stanley Cup, which must have already worked its magic and disappeared. He wonders if their crew will try to find it again, or if anyone will even tell them it's gone. If anyone asks, Bitty will say Jack took it with him when he left. Again, the thought of him gone for good makes Bitty cry even harder.

He makes his way over to Jack’s bed, which is perfectly made tight enough to bounce a doubloon off it. Bitty wishes it weren't, if only to give him something to do with his hands. He fluffs up the pillow, smoothing it out at the head of the bed.

An uncontrollable sob explodes from deep in his chest. “Lord,” he mutters out loud.

Suddenly, the loud slam of the door being thrown open jostles him from his thoughts, which is good because he needs every brainwave he has to handle Jack rushing into the cabin.

“Bittle!”

“Hello!” He yelps, quickly wiping his eyes in embarrassment. “Hello, Jack.” Bitty’s both startled and shocked to see Jack there, but he shoves his own feelings aside when he sees the expression on Jack’s face. He looks like he just ran a marathon and that he has something profoundly important to tell him.

He takes a few steps towards Jack, words gushing out of his mouth. “Oh my goodness— Why are— Is everything all right? You’re out of breath! You could have signaled—”

Jack cuts him off. “Bitty.”

This time, Jack is the one to step closer. There's less than a foot of space between them, and Bitty’s heart rate is off the charts. Jack still looks distraught, but his hands are coming up to hold onto Bitty’s arms, his face tilted downward as he gazes into his eyes, and Bitty feels like he has whiplash to go so quickly from thinking he would never see Jack again to having him so close, his hands gripping tightly on his arms and pulling him closer… closer…

Bitty’s eyes open wide and eyebrows fly up reflexively. He thinks his whole body would have hit the ceiling if Jack weren't there to ground him, warm, steady hands on his shoulders; firm, chapped lips on his mouth.

He blanks for a moment, unable to think or process what is happening to him. When he finally rouses his mind to make sense of what is happening, he panics.

 _What am I doing?_ he thinks. _I have to kiss him back!_

He puts everything he has into the kiss, every ounce of longing and desire, and he feels Jack respond in kind. His eyes fall shut, and his stomach squirms like he swallowed a jellyfish, and his chest feels like it's about to burst.

He feels Jack’s hand sliding down and around his back, his palm flat against his spine. He’s holding Bitty up, supporting him in yet another way, only this time it’s a tangible thing. As solid as the arm on his back is, Jack’s other hand flutters up somewhere around his cheek. He touches him with light, gentle caresses.

Bitty wants to tell him that he can grip harder, that every inch of Bitty’s skin is available to his touch. But he also doesn't want to tell him, because speaking would require breaking their kiss, and there's no way Bitty would do that now. There's still a chance that this isn't real, that it's just a fantasy or a dream, and whatever it is, Bitty doesn't want it to end.

His hands come up of their own accord to rest on Jack’s chest, his fingers twitching with the desire to explore and rub and hold on to Jack for as long as he can. Jack makes quiet, gasping noises against his mouth, and it's almost too much – too good.

Eventually Jack pulls away. Bitty tries to follow him with his mouth, but he pulls out of reach, panting heavily. Bitty doesn't want to open his eyes in case it was all a mistake. He couldn't bear to look up and see regret or disgust on Jack’s face, but he's not naive enough to ignore the possibility. His knees and his lips tremble, but his eyes remain shut.

However, Jack’s hands don't move. His left stays as warm and firm as ever at Bitty’s back and his right holds his cheek, lightly stroking the curve of his ear. They pause for just a moment – just long enough for them to catch their breath – before Jack pulls Bitty back towards him, and Bitty surges up to meet him.

Bitty hasn't kissed that many people in his life, so it's all he can do to keep up. Jack deepens the kiss, and Bitty stands on his tiptoes to get closer. Jack kisses like he captains, with confidence and without hesitation. He’s strategic as he crushes their lips together, knowing when to push forward and when to pull back. He’s passionate and determined, and Bitty trust him in this the way he trusts him in battle. They are a unit – coming together to be better than they are alone.

Eventually, they pull apart again. Bitty opens his eyes to gaze up at Jack with lidded eyes. Jack stares back looking just as dazed as he feels.

“We— we should talk,” Jack stammers.

“Okay.” It's all that Bitty can manage to say the way his brain is swimming.

It's only the desire to wipe the heartwrenchingly tentative expression from Jack’s face that gives him the ability to find his voice. “You—You came back. I thought you were leaving.”

Jack looks away. “I thought so too. It was what I thought I wanted, but... my father said something, and I realized I wanted something else.”

“Oh.” Bitty is confused. Jack _told_ him how badly he wanted to be reunited with his parents, that it was his dream to sail with them again. He sailed across the ocean, battled everything that got in his way, and found the _Stanley Cup_ to do so. Yet here he is.

“I love my parents, and knowing they're alive… it's amazing.” He turns back to meet Bitty’s eyes. “But my place isn't with them, not anymore.” His hands slide down Bitty’s arms to intertwine his fingers with his own. “My place is here, as captain. I want to stay here with you.”

Bitty is still reeling. He has no idea what to say.

Jack continues, “I realized that saying goodbye to my parents was going to be hard, but saying goodbye to you… That would be impossible. And I— I couldn't—”

He looks so sincere, looking at Bitty like he's the Stanley Cup – like he's 100 Stanley Cups, and Bitty can't help himself. He pulls Jack towards him, pitches himself up as high as his tiptoes will let him and kisses Jack with everything he's got.

“You're staying?” Bitty asks, a whisper against Jack’s lips.

Jack pulls back to look Bitty in the eye. “I don't want to sail if you're not there by my side.”

It's too much. Bitty’s cheeks are still damp with tears, but he is spectacularly, blindingly happy in this moment. He laughs, and Jack wraps him up in a hug. Bitty rests his head on Jack’s chest and inhales deeply. Jack’s scent has always made him a little woozy up close, but this time he lets himself breathe it all in.

“I never thought I would have this. Not just you, but any of it. And now, I don’t think I could ever sail without you either.”

“Well then, it's a good thing neither of us is going anywhere.”

“Aye captain, you're staying right here with me.”

“Good,” says Jack, then after a moment, he pulls back just enough to look at Bitty. “But when you say right here…”

“I meant here as in close to me. Lord knows I couldn't keep you in one place with your wanderlust. I don't even want to try!”

“Okay, good, because I had an idea.” Jack reaches in his pocket and pulls out the compass. “What would you wish for if you had the chance?”

“Oh honey, I don't need the Stanley Cup for that.” He places a hand on Jack’s chest, right over his heart. “I've already got everything I want.”

He doesn't even have time to blink before Jack plunges down again for another passionate kiss. Each one is even better than the last.

“But if you're offering…” Bitty says, dragging his mouth away with a grin. “I've always wanted an oven I could put in the galley. Think the Cup can handle that?”

Jack’s smile causes somersaults in Bitty’s stomach. “It’s always pie with you, eh, Bittle.”

“Obviously,” Bitty chirps. “I'm a pie-rate.” Jack groans and rolls his eyes, so Bitty does the only thing he can: he grabs Jack’s collar and pulls him down to kiss the annoyed look off his face

Just before their lips touch, Bitty says, “And if you thought that one was bad, you better kiss me again before I tell you the one about sword fighting.”

Luckily for Jack, he does just that.

 

***** Epilogue *****

Bitty and Jack receive a warm welcome from the _Providence_ crew as they come aboard. They head for the captain’s cabin and knock on the door for George.

Shockingly, the door is not answered by Captain Martin, but by an extremely large man, wearing an identical blue coat to the one Jack has on.

“Ah, you are famous Captain Zimmermann! Is nice to finally meet!”

“Let them in, Tater,” Georgia calls from inside. The tall, lanky pirate steps aside to let Jack and Bitty in as she continues. “Jack, this is Alexei Mashkov, another captain in my fleet.”

“It's great to meet you,” Jack says, shaking Mashkov’s hand.

“And I see you brought Bittle with you,” Georgia says, smiling.

“It's lovely to see you again, Captain Martin,” says Bitty nervously. “And to meet you, Captain Mashkov.”

“Bittle is an officer on the _Falconer_ ,” Georgia tells Mashkov.

Bitty bites his lip nervously. It's obvious that Georgia doesn't mind him being there – likes him even – but he's still not sure why Jack asked him to come. Bitty had practically swooned all those months when Jack had demonstrated just how much he wanted to stay with Bitty, but he didn't realize how seriously Jack took that. He’d taken it to a whole new level. They're rarely more than a few feet apart. Bitty loves it most of the time, but there are certain times – like when he's the only non-captain in the room – that he gets a little nervous.

As if reading his mind, Jack puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “And he brought pie,” he adds. Bitty puts the pie he's holding down in front of Georgia, who hums happily.

“And this is why Bittle is my favorite. You sure you need him on the _Falconer_? He could always stay with me on the  _Providence_.”

A look of horror immediately passes over Jack’s face before he is able to school it into something less obvious. Bitty can't help but feel pleased watching it.

Bitty helps Jack out and replies, “I appreciate the offer, but I'm very happy where I am.”

“Ugh, okay fine,” says Georgia. She turns to Mashkov. “Tater, I'm going to speak with Jack here for a bit, if you don't mind leaving us.”

“Not a problem,” he replies. “Is good to meet, Zimmermann and mate. We must talk later, have future partnership, yes?”

Jack responds, “Absolutely,” and shakes Mashkov’s hand once more. He leaves, and Jack and Bitty sit across from Georgia.

“It's good to see you, Jack. What have you got for me?”

Jack smiles and places a silver bucket next to the pie on Georgia’s desk. She pulls it towards her and peeks inside. “These aren't... Are they—?”

“The Calder jewels,” Jack says proudly. “And that's just the beginning. We have at least a half dozen chests of gold for you, along with some other interesting treasures I think you will enjoy.”

Georgia grins back. “Not bad, Zimmermann.”

“And there's one more thing. We don't have it yet, but what if I told you that Bittle here knew how to get you the Stanley Cup?”

“What?” Bitty whips his head over to gape at Jack.  “Jack thinks he's funny. I'm not the one who knows how to find the Cup. That's all him,” he retorts.

Jacks eyes are full of mirth as he chirps, “I'm telling you, Bittle’s your guy!”

Georgia smirks, “I don't really care which one of you knows as long as one of you does.” She looks at Jack with a mix of disbelief, hunger, and excitement in her eyes. “Are you being serious with me though, Jack? I have a good sense of humor, but I'd rather not joke about the Stanley Cup.”

Jack nods. “I can have it for you in six months.”

At that, Georgia leans back in her chair, beaming. “Well then, I guess we’ll have to check back in in six months.”

“There’s just one condition,” says Jack, leaning forward in his chair.

“Condition?” she responds, raising an eyebrow.

“More like a favor,” Jack assures her.

“What is it?”

Jack looks over at Bitty and smiles. It’s the same gorgeous, ridiculous smile that never fails to melt Bitty’s insides. He continues to look at Bitty even as he speaks to George. “As a ship’s captain, you can marry people, right?”

Bitty inhales sharply as goosebumps raise on his arms. Is Jack doing what he thinks he’s doing?

He barely hears Georgia’s reply as his whole world shifts on its axis. “Yes, I can both get married and perform a marriage. Are you asking me to marry you, Jack? Because depending on what you mean, I may have to decline,’ she says with a half-smile.

“I’d like to marry someone else, if you would do me the honor of performing the ceremony. I was thinking you could do it in a few months when we deliver the Cup.”

She grins “Why not do it now? I’m here. You’re here. We just need your special someone.” She looks pointedly at Bitty, who blushes on top of everything else. He would be embarrassed if he could think about anything other than Jack.

Jack flicks a glance at Bitty before turning back to George. “We can’t do it today. I haven’t asked him yet.”

Georgia stands and walks around the desk. She holds out a hand, which Jack stands and shakes. “Well okay, six months it is, but I think we have a deal. I get the Stanley Cup, and you get to marry the love of your life.”

Jack looks at Bitty with his heart in his eyes. “I think it’s a fair trade to me. What do you think, Bittle?”

“I—” he stammers, unable to find the words to describe how he feels about this man, in this moment, and in every moment. “I—I think, that there aren’t many people I would give up the Stanley Cup to marry. So if you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.”

“Then who am I to judge?” They inch closer to each other, unable to help the way they come together by instinct.

Luckily, George’s voice is enough to stop in their tracks. “The Stanley Cup for a lifetime of pie… Now that I think about it, I might be getting the short end of the stick.”

Jack flashes her a dazzling smile. “Sorry George, but it’s the best I can do.”

She gives a fake sigh and opens the door. “Fine, I’ll take it.”

***

That evening, after Georgia’s crew has unloaded the treasure, and the _Falconer_ has set sail, Jack finds Bitty at the bow. The sun is setting – clouds the color of strawberry pie filling – and Bitty folds himself into Jack as if he was made to fit at his side.

“You ready for another adventure, Bits?”

“Of course, Captain! I got your back,” he says looking up at Jack with a warm, tender smile. He pats Jack on the hip. “Now what are you waiting for, sweetheart? Let’s go get that Cup.”

Jack pulls Bitty in to face him, smiling down fondly. “Now why are you in such a hurry to find it all of a sudden?” he chirps. "I thought you already had everything you want."

“True, but it's a treasure, and I’m a pirate,” and to prove it, he pulls Jack down for a kiss to remind him exactly which pirate has stolen his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading!
> 
> Please come say hi and let me know what you think on twitter (sorry, no tumblr). I'm [@Chocoholic2_](http://www.twitter.com/chocoholic2_). And if my witty, sparkling personality doesn't entice you, come anyway and vote for what you think my [next writing project ](https://twitter.com/Chocoholic2_/status/746049139524280320)should be! I'm just getting started!


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